Wheel of Time
by Shall be in water writ
Summary: AU, Time Travel. Curiosity killed the cat. She should have known better than to meddle with magic of that sort. After all, Voldemort had destroyed himself in his pursuit of immortality, and meddling with time, well, that was a sort of immortality, wasn't it?
1. Seduced

**_My own twist on the whole travel back in time idea. Hermione is the main protagonist, naturally._**

**_04/17 - I just went through the first chapter and edited it. I have to say, I was all over the place. Hopefully the edit makes the prologue easier to digest._**

_Making a horcrux does more than grant immortality to the owner. It destroys them utterly and completely. The act of splitting the soul causes irreparable damage to the maker, permanently taking away a part of that person's identity and memories. What is the soul? At least with magic you could be sure it existed, but how do you analyse and understand something that cannot be observed through your senses and whose condition and effects differ from one situation to another? It is impossible to predict what would happen, because whatever law that governs the soul is impossible to observe or understand with contemporary knowledge and technology. The wise often state that some magics should never be played around with, and they are right. Sadly, the ambitious young never listen. _

_Voldemort made seven horcruxes. The diary. Slytherin's locket. Hufflepuff's cup. Ravenclaw's diadem. His familiar. The resurrection ring. And his arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. To destroy him, it would require the destruction of each artifact, by no means an easy task. Insane as he was, in the matters of magic, few rivaled him. His spells were cast faster and stronger than anyone alive. The rituals that he had undertaken granting him immense power and brute force. This, coupled with his ingenuity and natural talent for the magic made him a formidable foe. The cost of such strength was his ability to rationalize and perceive right and wrong. Perhaps he fooled himself into thinking there was no such thing, and that only power dictated what was right. There is truth to this, but no human can live without a moral compass, and slowly over time, his once great mind eroded into a shadow of what it once was. He was but a shade, fueled by emotion and desire, unable to control himself. What had started as a radical political movement quickly degenerated to petty terrorism and arbitrary violence. He ruled through fear, and it doesn't take a genius to know that fear is no way to rule._

_The civil war that erupted quickly divided the magical world and within three years, events spiraled out of control. The Ministry of Magic had long been compromised and even before that had been corrupt and incompetent. Nepotism and pureblooded supremacy had stagnated the magical society and any reform that held the slightest loss of power were shot down. Small wonder that the MoM had been destroyed within the first year. In the absence of a central government, Magical Britain descended into anarchy. Multiple factions stepped forward to take control of the power gap after the fall of MoM, and two factions in particular came into power. _

_The followers of Lord Voldemort, who stylized themselves as Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, under the leadership of the golden trio, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Unsurprisingly, the issue of blood supremacy was quickly abandoned during the second year of war. There was certainly differing opinions on the matter, but neither faction could afford to use that as a rallying point or platform. The Order of the Phoenix never had that to begin with, but the pureblooded faction of the Death Eaters had dwindled to a few handful. Muggleborns, toward the end of the war, outnumbered the purebloods seventeen to one. Entire families had been eradicated, some names lost to the annals of history and memory. As if this was not bad enough, without the presence of a unified government, several magical species began to make a bid for their independence. _

_Despite all this, the Order of the Phoenix was slowly winning. If anyone even called it such. The longer they stalled, the weaker the Death Eaters became. Voldemort's insanity became even more pronounced, and were it not for his horcruxes, the Dark Lord would have perished on multiple occasions. One by one, the trio hunted his horcruxes and destroyed them. Hermione and Ron were the only two others who knew the last horcrux was Harry. They argued and bickered, trying to find a way of getting around removing the horcrux, which would surely kill Harry. Despite Hermione's bid for time to research a counter to this magic, Harry and Ron went ahead with a daring gambit. They lured Voldemort into Hogwarts by using their double agent and ambushed him. Harry let himself die, believing in his two friends to finish a weakened Voldemort who had no idea he no longer had the protection of his horcruxes. _

_Out of the three, Harry had always been the most powerful, but it had been Hermione who was the strongest. So it was with little surprise that she dealt the killing blow. The fight with Voldemort was anti-climatic to say the least. _

_There was no gloating between the three remaining fighters. This fight had been fought over and over and by now there was very little that had not already been said before. Ecstatic at his victory, Voldemort barely put up a resistance. Ron and Hermione hammered away at the weakened Dark Lord who thought his horcruxes would keep him alive. When Hermione's killing curse finally connected, he died without ever knowing he no longer had any soul anchors left in the world. At last. It was over. _

_Could they really claim victory? Hogwarts had been ripped apart from the fight and the magical community essentially no longer existed. Any method of detecting and tracking muggleborn wizards and witches had disappeared along with the MoM. Communication was difficult, everyone was in hiding and there was no method of open communication. It would be years before people came out, and even then it was nigh impossible to gather them together. Even worse, hundreds of years worth of knowledge was lost. The two major archives in all of Magical Britain had been burned down and destroyed. Wizarding Britain was once again in the dark ages. _

"This is ridiculous. What are we hoping to find in the rubble?" Ron spat angrily on the ground. Hermione narrowed her eyes in irritation. "Anything that will help us rebuild. Books. Letters. Hell, even an official ministry order would be nice."

Ron scowled back, but there was hardly any real malice behind it. He was simply used to scowling, even when there was nothing really to scowl at. "I doubt there is anything of worth here. It's all just rubble. I think we should be cleaning up the other factions right now."

Hermione's expression became stony as she stopped levitating stones. "Are you so eager to jump back into fighting again?"

Ron winced at her flat tone and quickly raised a hand in defense. "You know that's not what I mean." He sighed as she continued to stare at him. "I'm just not used to this. Half of me doesn't even believe that he's… actually dead." It wasn't a smart move, as Hermione froze.

Ron instantly paled in realization and slowly backed away. She was mad. The type of mad that meant you were going to get hurt soon.

"Why?" She asked slowly and deliberately, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The calm before the storm. "Mione," Ron pleaded. "Please."

"How could the two of you go behind my back?" As she stalked over to him angrily, Ron cursed Harry for putting him in this situation.

_"She's going to kill us." Ron remarked as he leaned against the wall. Harry chuckled and brushed his hand along the scar that ran up the side of his face. "Just you, I'm afraid. If all works out accordingly, he'll be mortal, trapped and weakened. And I'll be … going ahead."_

_"You don't have to do it this way. We can figure something out. Hermione said she would research how to take a horcrux out of its vessel…" He was interrupted as Harry snarled out his objection. _

_"No! We both know how dangerous this magic is. She's brilliant, but I won't risk her experimenting with the magic that twisted Riddle into what he is today. I cannot live with myself if she gets injured studying this magic… or worse." Ron sighed in annoyance. "What if we try to trap him? Contain his soul shard and bind it…" He broke off as he realized the implications of trapping a soul shard. What kind of payment would be required? _

_"At least tell her our plan." _

_"No. She'd just try and study the magic in secret. You know how she is." Harry's eyes were cold. "Promise me you won't tell her. I won't risk losing her over this." _

_Ron swallowed hard, wanting to tell his best friend that Hermione harbored feelings for him, but too scared to. "I… I promise." He muttered at last. _

_Harry smiled softly. "Soon. This will all be over. In truth, I'm tired. I'm so tired of all this fighting and killing." He brushed a hand along broken stone, where once a fierce gargoyle had stood silently watching, only a fragment of shattered rock remained. "Sometimes I think it might have been better if we just let him win. At least there would be a magical world." _

_Ron growled, and punched him on the shoulder. "First off, you promised us you'd stop pitying yourself. Never look back, that's what pushed us this far, and I won't have you quitting now. Second, you're a colossal prat if you think letting Voldemort win is better than fighting him."_

_Harry winced, the punch had hurt. Ron's physical bulk was nothing to be laughed at. The redhead looked at him fiercely and the raven-haired wizard gave a wry smile. "Thanks. I needed that." Before Ron could say anymore, the runestone in his hand vibrated and Draco's voice echoed out from the small flat rock. "The trap is set."_

Ron felt his chest tighten as he realized Hermione was sobbing. She wailed into his chest, hammering her fist into him and although he barely felt the blows, they struck him hard inside. Hermione had always been the rational one, who never let her emotion get in the way, and small wonder she had become a master occlumens and legilimens in the later half of the war. She had excellent control over herself and Ron could count on one hand the amount of times she had cried openly. He had never seen her so vulnerable, and it hurt him more than any spell ever could. "I'm so sorry Mione. I'm so sorry." He whispered, holding on to her tightly.

"I… I could have … found another way." She sniffled. "All I needed was time. I could have made a receptacle and trapped Voldemort." She was talking faster, she always did that when she felt nervous or scared.

"No! You can't." He said firmly. "Some magics are never meant to be played around with. Harry and I both agreed it was too dangerous."

Hermione snarled at him, pushing him away. "What a pair of hypocrites you are. Willing to sacrifice yourselves, but won't even acknowledge I'm willing to do the same." She was shouting now, all the while tears flowed from her eyes.

Ron was staunch and resolute, bearing her anger like a stone statue. "I'd live with being a hypocrite if it meant it kept you safe. Harry would too."

"You don't get to make that choice for me." She yelled at him. Ron felt like he was being torn apart. She must have seen the pain reflected in his face because she abruptly turned away, suddenly ashamed of her behavior.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you." She said softly, slumping against a broken piece of stone nearby. She let herself slide down the wall and curled into herself. "I just wish we had more time to find a solution. I'm hurt and mad that you guys went behind my back, but… but… I know I probably would have done the same in his shoes. It's just... Harry's ... dead now." She stammered, her voice cracking slightly. "I didn't even… even tell him..." She trailed off abruptly. Ron didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Long ago, he would have opened his mouth and stuffed his foot in it. The war taught him a vital lesson. Silence was golden. The void stretched on and on, like a dagger twisting in his gut, when all of a sudden Hermione stood, wiping away her tears. Her voice was steady again, filled with sadness, but determined. "Let's get back to clearing this out. Maybe we'll find something useful."

"Hermione." She looked back at him, expression softening at his pained look. "I'm sorry."

"I know." She said after a long pause. She flicked her wand and vanished a portion of the debris, "I am too."

As they headed back to their dingy little headquarters to break the news to the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione fingered Harry's wand in her pocket. Ron hadn't known the lore of the Deathly Hallows, so he had no idea that they were in possession of the remaining two. Only Dumbledore, Harry and herself knew what it was and she was going to keep it that way. With Voldemort's death, there was now only one person in the world who knew what the wand was. She knew that she should destroy it, but the allure of the wand made her hesitate. She wasn't interested in power, and knowing that the wand amplified certain spells to a degree made it a useful tool, but she couldn't afford to destroy such an artifact. Along with the invisibility cloak and resurrection stone, they were magnificent pieces of magic. If she could reverse engineer them, then the possibilities were endless. They had lost so much in the war, books and knowledge and techniques were all gone. She couldn't bear to destroy another artifact, especially one so powerful and useful as the deathstick.

_The wand was a magnificent artifact. It did more than just amplify magic as she had initially presumed, it could naturally overload the spell as well. In any spell, knowledge of what was being cast was required. If you cast the killing curse but thought it was a cheering charm, the curse would completely fail. Not so with the Elder Wand. The deathstick actually negated the need for knowledge of the spell. In the hands of a first year, it would cast the killing curse as long as the wand technique and intonation were correct. It also meant that the caster could use any spell in any field of magic without suffering any loss in power. Devastating in the right hands, and she could see why people coveted the wand._

_At first, she had been ecstatic at possessing a wand that enabled her to cast anything she wanted without having to have mastered the spell at all. As long as she knew how, she could. Then she realized what it possibly meant. A killing curse could only be cast if you knew what it did, so for the wand to be able to circumvent the caster's lack of knowledge, it would have to know that the curse it was using was the killing curse. In other words, the wand might be sentient. Dangerous. It was certainly bewitching. Was it a horcrux? She analyzed it and quickly rejected that hypothesis. Having known what a horcrux was first hand, it was clear the wand did not hold an actual sentience in the literal sense. Instead, if anything it was like a computer. Capable of storing immense amounts of data, but incapable of acting upon it. Her initial wariness faded, but she was ever careful to never use the wand too much afterwards._

Ron came to the realization that he loved her. It was something he had known a while ago, but had hidden away deep inside of him. Too scared of shattering their bond, uncertain if she reciprocated his feelings. The war was no time for romance, and he knew he made the right choice. But the war was really over now, and for the first time in a long time, he dared to confront his feelings for the brunette witch. At first, he brushed it off, trying to dismiss it as a fleeting fancy.

Hermione had grown into a beautiful woman, he thought to himself. He was just lonely and looking for companionship. He tried to flirt with some of the others, but he always said something wrong and scared them off. The war had scarred him and left him prone to anger and despair, and nobody seemed to be able to deal with his mood swings except her. She never faltered in the face of his anger and whenever he was lost, she always seemed to know what to do or say. Slowly, his excuses ran dry and he began to sneak glances at her whenever she was distracted. He learned that she had a habit of chewing her lower lip whenever she was unsure of something. That she always pouted in that adorable way when she didn't get what she wanted, and Ron realized he was going to go insane if he didn't say something. Soon.

"Mione?" He asked quietly one day, as they lazed about in the afternoon doing absolutely nothing. She looked up at him quizzically from where she had been writing. Okay, he was doing nothing and she was busy trying to decipher an equation that he did not understand in the slightest. Judging by her chewing of the lower lip, Ron knew she was stuck. Recently, with the loss of so much knowledge, Hermione had decided to write down all that she could remember. Her near eidetic memory helped enormously in preserving general knowledge of magic. The others pitched in whenever they could, but the bulk of it came from her.

Hermione's eyes were a deep brown, he thought to himself. Deep pools of chocolate that seemed to draw him in, trapping him in their depths, and he realized that he had say it. He had to confess his feelings, because it was eating away at him from the inside. He feared her rejection, but he desired her acceptance more than anything in the world. The intense feeling warred inside him and he opened his mouth and closed them soundlessly, at a loss for what to say.

"The others are thinking of maybe sending a patronus beacon to try and search for any surviving families." He quickly looked away, his heart pounding so fast he swore it was going to burst out of his chest. He knew he was being a coward, but honestly he'd rather tango with the Dark Lord than confess to Hermione. At least he knew what to expect come the former.

"Hm, it's an interesting idea. Luna's, I take it?" Hermione asked, and her gaze was unfocused as she began to think of how to do such a thing. "I can see how it would work. An amplification rune for the sound, a muggle repellant ward that would follow the patronus, hm... some sort of automatic locator?" Ron couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" She asked him crossly, annoyed that he was laughing at her.

"Nothing," He choked out in between bouts of laughter. "You're so beautiful when you're thinking that hard." Then he realized what he had said and froze as panic flooded him. "I … I mean…" He stammered, trying to backtrack.

Hermione had frozen, her expression a cross between shock and surprise. "You… I…", she seemed at a loss for words. In less than a blink's worth of time, her expression became guarded and Ron felt his stomach drop as if he were free falling. After a long pause where she looked at him in bewilderment and … was that fear? He turned and left. He could not bear looking at her.

"Dammit." He cursed at himself for being such an idiot. How could he have let his guard down so completely and let slip his feelings for her? He wanted to at least confess properly. But it was too late now. He knew why it was so easy to forget to be careful around her.

_He felt safe with her. Simply being near her brought him a feeling on contentedness. She was everything to him, his anchor, his compass and his guide. If anything should happen to her… he would become nothing but a broken clock slowly ticking away to oblivion. He knew he needed her, but she didn't need him. But he had hoped... he wasn't sure what he had hoped..._

_Unraveling the wand was difficult. There wasn't any particular danger to it, the wand wasn't going to blow up or anything like that, but trying to unravel the magic behind it was akin to trying to move a hundred pound statue without magic or tools of any sort. Nearly impossible. Just like Ron. Hermione felt a different vein of frustration overwhelm her. She wasn't sure what she felt for him. Certainly, she loved him. That was true. But did she love him like that? She knew she'd walk to hell and back for him. That she'd give her life to protect his. Just as he would for her. They were brothers in arm, bound by duty and love, but could she go beyond that? Truth be told, she had once desired Harry. But as the years went by, she grew less sure of her feelings for him. Maybe if he had lived, she would have seen it blossom into something. _

_Ron was so difficult. Whenever he looked at her, there was a longing, a desire that burned behind his black eyes like the fire from a thousand suns. It scorched her and even though her element was fire and she did not fear heat, she was terrified of the depth and brightness of Ron's love. She feared she could not give him what he wanted, and she would sooner cut off her own limb than pretend to love him the way he wanted her to. And worst of all, she feared that if she didn't love him the way he did her, than they would never be able to talk to each other again. _

_So she pretended nothing had happened and he did the same and they tried hard to forget it. But everything was different now. She was skittish around him, uncertain and afraid. He was colder, not crueler, but more distant. Afraid of coming closer. Once burned twice shy. In the end, he resorted to using his humor as a shield and she used her projects as an excuse. It was ripping them apart, but neither of them knew what to do. _

Luna came into the room one day and frowned at her. "You've got to stop hiding." Hermione pretended she didn't know what that meant. "I'm not hiding. I'm almost finished with the modifications for the patronus." She tried to distract Luna with the patronus, and together they hashed out some of the kinks in the spellwork.

"This is great, once Bill finishes his ward sigils we can start looking for others out there." Luna smiled happily, carefree and light. It reminded Hermione of better days. "But don't think I've forgotten why I came here." She scolded lightly.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I had hoped you might." Luna reached out and hugged Hermione. She returned it gently.

"You're the bravest person I know, Hermione." Luna said at last, letting go of the brunette and sitting beside her. "Nothing good comes from ignoring a problem. I would know." The blonde grinned at the older woman and began to run her hands through her soft brown hair.

Hermione hesitated, trying not to think about it and failing. "You're right. I have to do something. Heaven knows he won't." She thought about how stupid Ron could be and how stubborn he was sometimes. Luna giggled and Hermione's face softened. "I'll talk to him." She promised.

_She played with magic skirting the edges of her limits, taking apart spells and modifying them, changing swishes to flicks and experimenting with the changes. She knew she was now treading dangerous ground, but she was meticulous in her procedures. There was so much to be discovered about how magic worked and they needed it. Already, several muggleborns had been found, and they were at a loss on how to teach them. They were warriors and fighters, not teachers. So she pushed herself harder and harder, writing all that she could remember from her years at Hogwarts._

_Although she had been offered the position of head of the order, she had refused it. She could not afford to juggle so many things at once, and so Ron became the defacto leader and she focused on preserving and recording what she could for future generations. Somedays, she cursed Voldemort for what he had done. So much knowledge had been lost._

_But there was a more pressing issue she needed to deal with._

"Ron." He jerked at her voice and turned around with a brittle smile. It hurt her that he was hiding his feelings, but given the past few days it was only to be expected. "I don't think of you in that way, not the same you do." She put it bluntly, refusing to dance around the subject. His face fell and she knew that he was going to run. Quickly, Hermione reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm. "That doesn't mean I can't. I've just never thought of you that way." His expression was befuddled. She laughed softly, and slowly leaned up to kiss him on his cheek.

"Convince me. Show me how to see you in that way. You have all the time in the world, I'm not going anywhere." She whispered softly in his ears and turned around to leave.

Ron watched her leave with fondness. Hermione was the most infuriating person he had ever met, and that coming from the best friend of Harry Potter was saying something. Convince her, he mused to himself. Happiness bloomed like a flower inside of his chest, each petal unfurling and filling him with hope and joy. Challenge accepted.

_In many ways_, Hermione thought to herself, _life has a way of not conforming to what you thought it should_. She had feared it would be difficult to see Ron in that light. After all, she had never thought of him like that before. Ron was her best friend, a brother in all but name and blood. Now her romantic interest? Wasn't it supposed to be hard? They had never had time to develop relationships with anyone. The war had seen to that. Perhaps the seeds of desire had been planted long ago and now as the slow realization that Ron loved her more than just a brother dawned, the little seedlings began to bloom. It was the little things, his smile, his laugh, the way he moved, the way he talked. He knew her so well, and she knew him like the back of her hand. It had taken less than a month before she admitted to herself that she_ liked _Ron. Certainly, he infuriated her sometimes, his bull-headedness and insensibility drove her mad at times. But she had long figured how to coax him into seeing things her way. Maybe if … she cut the thought before it fully developed. No ifs. Never any ifs.

_The wand's origin made no sense. How can it be that the core was non-identified? The spell she used did not have a setting for non-identified and she knew she had not miscast the spell. Something impossible was going on and she was going to solve it. After dealing with the goblins. Preferably non-violently._

She needed to do a few ritual in order to determine what the Elder Wand ritual in question would help her determine the wand's origin, which upon finding out would quickly lead to a list of possible cores. Unfortunately, the ritual needed some ingredients that could only come from another wand, and seeing how wands were in very short supply these days, she chose to use her own. Initially, she had rejected the whole idea. But nothing was working and eventually she decided to take the risk. Without her wand she would be unable to use her magic, at least not in its full capacity, but with the war over she could afford it. Besides, she had the Elder Wand. If anything happened, she could just use that.

_The wand's origin was not death as she had suspected, which meant her initial theory that the wand's core was a thestral body part or a dementor's body part, two of the only magical creatures linked with death, was wrong. The wand's origin was time. It made no sense. How could a wand have for its core something that has an origin with time? Time was a concept that had very little actual material reflecting its nature in real life. The only thing she could think of was the time turner that she had used in her third year. She now knew the theory on how the sands worked, and realized that it wasn't as amazing as she had thought. A closed loop in time meant it wasn't even real time travel. _

_The wand, however, was driving her nuts. At least one mystery had been partially solved. She now theorized that the wand was able to use any spell because it had a memory bank. Since the origin of the wand was time, it had no doubt been subject to all sorts of spells. Which meant that the wand was capable of retaining and using any spell it had ever cast. The ability to amplify the user's magic was also explained by its origin. The MoM had developed an amplification filter that enhanced the magic cast by a wizard or witch. The reason it had been scrapped? The filter required a full day to enhance the magic required for a simple levitation charm. It was theorized that for a stunner to be amplified, the filter would require up to a year to charge. If the wand had time as its origin, it could circumvent this problem. _

_Hermione felt excitement well inside her as she inched closer and closer to unraveling the wand. The sheer amount of applications for this technology was endless. Since she didn't want anyone knowing what it was she was doing, she moved her experiments to Hogwart's dungeons. The castle was broken, but the dungeons had not been touched. Slytherin's common room was miraculously intact and she spent most of her time there, testing out theories and experimenting on the wand. _

"Marry me?" Ron asked a year after they moved in with each other. He went on bended knee and offered her a beautiful ring made of white gold and inlaid with a diamond. Hermione had looked at him stupidly for all of a second before smiling so widely that she felt her cheeks hurt.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She was crying, and for the first time since she could remember, they were tears of joy.

_She had been able to confirm her theory that the wand had an internal memory bank for spells. She had spell-crafted a new curse, a slight alteration to the standard bone-breaker that made the spell not only break bones but also rend the muscles. The first time she cast the spell, she used occlumency to fool herself into thinking she was casting a stunner. The spell failed. Something that had never happened before in all the time she had been using it. She tested it again, thinking of a shield piercer instead of a stunner. Again, it failed. Heart thumping in her chest, she chose another spell at random and cast the modified bone-breaker. Like before, it failed. She cast the spell perfectly for the first time, and quickly ran through the same drill as before. All three times, with her occlumency firmly in place, the spell succeeded where it had failed before. One step closer to unraveling the mysteries of the wand. _

Time was the greatest healer of all. A full year of peace where she pursued her projects of unraveling the Elder Wand and spell-crafting helped too. The rest of the time was divided between helping the order rebuild and spending time with Ron. The war seemed so far away. It was absolute bliss. In a week, they would have their wedding. Everything was perfect.

**_The end. Just kidding. _**

**_Feel free to review and drop some comments, it'd make me a very happy person. And if I'm happy, I write more! Also drop a review if you have questions. _**

**_By the by, I'm rather fickle and prone to making changes in the storyline. This may cause some inconsistencies. Your more than welcome to point them out to me, and I'll see about making some adjustments. _**


	2. Lost

_**Here's chapter 2! I changed my mind a few times about some things in it, feel free to point out any residue mistakes I forgot to deal with. **_

_Who had made the Elder Wand? Where did the incredible technology behind it come from? Historically speaking it was thousands of years old, but how old exactly? So many questions. Hermione knew some questionable magic, having spent months searching up any information on the horcruxes. One of them was a blood ritual that could possibly reveal the identity of the wizard who crafted this brilliant wand. After some careful deliberation, she decided to do the ritual. Shaving a sliver of the wand off, a miniscule fragment that was almost invisible to the naked eye, she placed a drop of her blood and snuck a piece of bone from Harry's corpse. She tried very hard not to think too much about it. Harry wouldn't begrudge her this, not with so much at stake. She hoped._

_Something was very wrong. Perhaps she had been too optimistic in rejecting the possibility that the wand was sentient. The ritual had failed halfway through, and somehow her magic was now bound to the wand. For the first time in a long while, she felt terrified and scared. What had she done?_

Hermione looked at the gleaming black wand in front of her and cursed herself for being so stupid as to forget what it was. How many years had it been, sitting docily in her laboratory, teasing her with snippets of information, luring her deeper and deeper into the trap. It had killed every single wielder before her, did she really think it was safe to play with such an artifact? She shivered and felt more of her magic begin seeping into the wand. Around her, the tattered remains of the blood ritual lay shattered. The wand had resisted the ritual, which could only be possible if it was sentient. A thick rope of light connected her to the wand and she tried desperately to hold on to her essence. It was like trying to resist gravity. The unrelenting pull of the wand was ripping her apart and no matter what she did, she could not move. Was this it? Her final moments? The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth as her body began to shut down. _Internal hemorrhaging._ Her thoughts drifted lazily to Ron, and she felt sorrow and guilt overwhem the pain for a brief moment. If only she had destroyed the wand instead of attempting to study it. If only she had realized what it was doing to her when she had sacrificed her wand to reveal its origin. Unwittingly, she had dug herself a hole so deep that she could no longer remember what life was like without it.

_Come on Hermione. No ifs, remember?_

She gritted her teeth, fighting back a cough and closed her eyes. Using occlumency, she steeled her mind against the pain and focused. Her magic belonged to her alone. No one was allowed to take it from her. No one. She fought the pull of the wand to a standstill, but her magic slowly trickled through her fingers like water. Suddenly, a hand touched her face and she opened her eyes in astonishment. When had she closed them?

"Hello Hermione." Harry looked at her with a soft emerald eyes. He brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ears, in a gesture so familiar that she felt a sob well inside of her chest. His smile was like a knife cutting deep into her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "so sorry for what I've done. I should have known, it was so obvious now and… and…". She realized she was babbling.

"Shhh." Harry hugged her and she felt herself relax. "It's alright. Everything will be alright. Just relax and let go."

Hermione froze. Harry would never have offered her false promises. He would never tell her to just give up either. She tore herself out of his grip and pushed him back.

"You're not Harry." She snarled. "Who are you."

His green eyes darkened, changing color until they were blood red. Lord Voldemort glared at her maliciously. "Your worst nightmare, witch. Give up, you can never win." He sneered at her, but did nothing otherwise.

Hermione studied him impassively. "Impossible, we destroyed every single one of your soul containers. There is no way…" She trailed off as she began to see what was happening. Harry had been the previous owner of wand, and before him it had been Voldemort. That meant the next should be…

"Hello Miss Granger." Albus Dumbledore smiled at her, looking every bit the way she remembered.

"Headmaster," she murmured, uncertain if this was real or not. A shade or an illusion? "Any words of advice?" She asked mockingly.

His sky blue eyes were as she remembered, warm and kind, but his words were wrong, so very wrong. "You should not fear death, child. Embrace it, there is no other way. Fear of the unknown is unbecoming those of great intellect."

His face was growing younger, white hair becoming yellow and blue eyes hardening. Hermione frowned. She didn't recognize the person in front of her, but if her hunch was right this was Gellert Grindelwald.

"Come now. What is one life compared to the many? All you need to do is give up and you will save countless lives. For the greater good."

"You want me to give up?" She said softly, feeling her anger burn inside her like a raging forest fire. Grindelwald raised a hand to her, palm face up as if asking her to take his hand. His face was melting away into the shadows leaving only the hand.

Hermione took the hand gently and felt her magic bubble around her eagerly, awaiting her will. "You have no idea how wrong you are." She snarled and pulled hard. Her magic. Hers and hers alone.

The world snapped and fractured like a smashed window pane and suddenly she was deposited in a soft comfy chair amidst an elegant room. Tapestries and painting were hung around her, and the soft carpet felt rich and soft beneath her feet. Beside her, warm flames crackled merrily in a hearth and seated across from her was a man she had never seen before.

"Another trick?" She scoffed. "You'll have to do better than that. I have no clue who you are."

"Ah, that might be because this isn't an illusion." He replied, amusement evident in his rich baritone voice. His hair was pitch black, dark as the shadows that danced in the firelight. He was easy on the eyes, a strong jawline and high cheekbones that made him seem elegant and refined.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And I should believe that because…?" She trailed off.

"Well," He stopped for a moment before cocking his head to one side and grinning. "I can't prove a negative. It would be an exercise in futility."

Unbidden, a small smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Indeed. I still don't know who you are supposed to be. I'd think I would remember meeting someone like you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment. My name is Ignotus Peverell and I am the one who crafted that artifact." He gestured to the wand that hovered between them. Hermione started in surprise. "Where did that come from?" She murmured under her breath.

"It's been here all along, you just never noticed before." He smiled, showing gleaming white teeth.

"And where exactly is here?" She asked warily, keeping her gaze fixed on the seemingly innocuous piece of wood.

"This is my home." He said cheerily. Hermione felt annoyed at his exuberance in the face of her plight. Then she realized what he had just said.

"Wait. You're Ignotus Peverell? And you made the Elder Wand?" She asked in surprise.

Ignotus furrowed his eyebrows in slight amazement. "Is that what they call it in your time? How curious. But to answer your questions, yes and yes."

Hermione thought for a second before shrugging mentally in acceptance. She could not think of a reason he would lie to her about his identity, at least not at the moment. "Suppose." She licked her lips nervously before continuing. "Suppose I believe you. Why am I here?"

Ignotus smiled sharply. "Well, I must admit you were not who I was expecting." Seeing her confusion he held up a hand to stall any questions. "Allow me to explain." Hermione closed her mouth and nodded in agreement.

"First off, I had thought a wizard would appear although I must admit, a beautiful witch such as yourself is certainly far better company," he winked at her and Hermione felt herself flush in embarrassment, "I'll start with the device that brought you here. You must first understand what the … wand... is." He paused and looked at her rather curiously. "I suppose the most important thing about it is that it is not a wand." Hermione felt astonished, then the revelation hit her. "Of course!" She gasped out. "That makes so much sense. No wonder I could not detect a core, it does not have one."

Ignotus smiled proudly. "I did not design it to be a wand, rather it was meant to be a true time turner. It would charge itself by absorbing ambient and channeled magic from the wizards using it. Theoretically, one day it would accumulate enough energy to successfully power the time sands inside and send the person through time to me."

Hermione was confused. "Then how is it that the wand can channel spells and amplify them without a working core?"

Ignotus blushed. "Urm. I don't know." He admitted. "I never intended for the time battery to be able to remember and use spells. It was probably a side-effect resulting from the interaction between the time sands and the in-built amplifier. It must have recorded each spell used and amplified them. It's quite fascinating."

Still reeling from the revelation that the wand was not a wand and that the crafter had not even intended for it to be used as a wand, Hermione remained silent.

"I did, uh, imprint a few runes into the device that would remind the owner to use the battery, although…" He paused again, sounding oddly guilty. "Anyhow…"

Hermione interrupted with narrowed eyes. "What runes are we talking about?"

"Naudhiz and Wunjo, respectively." He said at last, quietly. He didn't look at her. "Anyhow, the point of this was for true time travel to occur."

Hermione froze, any rebuke at his reckless use of runes was forgotten. "What?"

Ignotus grinned widely at her. "True time travel. Open ended! This device would send back a person from the future once it is fully charged, and I would be able to talk to them and find out what happened. My estimations say it would take roughly four generations for the device to be fully charged, five at most! Then, I could make adjustments for the future, making sure to take the best possible route! It's foolproof!" He was flushed with excitement.

Hermione didn't know what to say. "What about the future?" She asked at last, unable to believe what was going on.

"Well, it's already gone." He smiled at her. "I'm really sorry about that, but it's a small sacrifice to pay for the knowledge of future events."

"Small sacrifice?" Hermione felt rage surge through her at the implications of what he had just done. "You complete imbecile." The raven-haired wizard was taken aback at this.

"Look," He said sharply, "I know you don't want to die, but think about all the good you'll do. If you tell me about the future, I'll be able to guide it to the best possible scenario. I could prevent wars from happening, save millions of lives to disease, create new inventions that would have otherwise taken years." He was practically beaming now. "Besides, it's too late now. The device has activated, which means that the future is already gone."

Hermione stopped her arguments, realizing that there was no way she could reason with him. She grabbed the Elder Wand and stood up. "I won't allow this."

Ignotus looked at her in shock. "But…" He stammered, "It's too late already. The future you know is gone!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Maybe not." Her mind raced as she tried to find a solution. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before lowering the wand cum time travel device. Ignotus beamed at her. "I knew you would see reason. Now tell me, from when do you hail? I must admit I have never seen a witch wearing …"

"_Imperio." _She could not use legilimency. If she injured Ignotus, it would destroy the entire future as she knew it. Besides, legilimency was highly inaccurate and insufficient for the situation. Ignotus' eyes glazed, and she felt a wave of ecstasy rush through her at having him completely and utterly under her control. It was an unforgivable curse for a reason. Prolonged use would render the user addicted, and there was no coming back once you were addicted.

"Is there a way for me to be sent back into the future?" She asked him curtly.

"I do not know. The time stick is supposed to be a one way trip, but currently it holds more energy than it supposed to. Perhaps if you reverse the polarity and trigger the device it will send you back to a future." He spoke monotonously and Hermione nodded. She had guessed that much. She removed the spell and he slowly came out of his daze.

"What was that spell?" He looked shocked, a hint of fear and worry appearing on his face now. "Even if you kill me, the future is already gone. You should accept it."

Hermione looked at him scornfully. "I'm not an idiot. I will wipe your memories of this conversation. You will never remember it."

Ignotus looked stunned. "You can't do that. There is no spell that can …" He paused as realization struck. "I…"

Hermione cut him off. _"Obliviate." _She removed all the relevant information and stunned him right after. She was infinitely glad that occlumency didn't come about until the thirteen hundreds. If Ignotus knew how to shield his mind, the future would truly be destroyed.

Reversing the polarity took her a while, but soon she was ready. Giving a final glare at Ignotus, Hermione activated the wand with her magic. Never before had anyone made her want to kill them as badly as Ignotus. Not even Lord Voldemort.

The wand began to hum and shake as the world around her shattered like a broken mirror and she felt herself spiral into darkness. A sudden thought struck her. What if the device didn't have enough energy to take her to her future? Ignotus had used his body as an anchor, which was why she had appeared before him instead of somewhere random. She had no such anchors. It was like throwing a dart blindfolded and hoping it struck the right target. Suddenly, pain surged through her entire body like a lightning bolt from the sky. The pain did not fade, but grew increasingly agonizing, it was as if she was being burned alive. A second later, she blacked out.

Something was tickling her nose. She giggled and stretched herself, feeling oddly sore but filled with energy. The last time she had felt like this had been the night of their wedding. "Stop it Ron." She curled into herself and lazily opened her eyes. "I'm too sore…"

She was in a grass clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose canopies blocked the sunlight. Now wide awake, Hermione felt panic and adrenalin surge through her veins. Idly, she realized she was completely naked, but the weather was warm and hot. Sometime mid-summer, she thought to herself dazedly. It had been winter when she had done the ritual. Maybe she was on the other side of the globe. It could be possible. Perhaps she had been dumped in the carribeans. Or … or… She looked around her. The Elder Wand was nowhere to be seen, but she knew she could cast the spell wandlessly.

"_Tempus." _She muttered softly. _June 20th 1942._

"No. No. No. No." She hyperventilated, half sobbing, half shouting and choking from unformed words. "Please no." The world was spinning, she couldn't breathe. She stumbled to her feet and nearly tripped. Her balance was off.

"This can't be happening." She muttered to herself. "This is just a bad dream. You're going to wake up anytime now Hermione." Half stumbling, she began to walk. She needed to get somewhere safe.

Before she had taken ten steps, the quick pitter patter of feet told her something was coming toward her. Was that a dog barking? She was dazed and the world made no sense to her. She felt a hysterical giggle well inside her chest. She was crazy. Good. No wait, that was bad. The brush rustled and a big boarhound burst through the undergrowth, barking madly. It bounded to her and began to circle her eagerly, tail wagging and ears straight. A man's voice shouted. It was so far away… Hermione began to laugh.

"Who's there?" A gruff voice exclaimed, an old man rounded the tree and gaped at the sight. A completely nude girl of fourteen or fifteen was laughing madly while Rue circled her all the while barking. She looked at him with unfocused brown eyes and a dazed expression on her face. He blushed as he realized her state of undress. He quickly averted his gaze and pulled at the front of his shirt. "Um, lass…" Before he could say anymore, she dropped in a dead faint mid laugh. Worry briefly warred with embarrassment before the former won. He quickly took off his shirt and used it to cover her as best he could. Then he lifted her carefully, trying his best to touch as little flesh he could before running toward his home. Rue followed behind, barking all the while.

_She drifted in and out of consciousness. _

"_Hermione…" someone was calling her name. She was drowning, water all around her. A flash of red, she coughed, choking on a name. "Ron." She tried to call out to him, but it wasn't him. The red crest of Gryffindor sank in front of her, just out of reach. Desperately, she tried to grab it. The crest transformed into a lion with a magnificent yellow mane. It roared, but she felt safe. Twin shards of emerald gazed at her fondly. "Be strong." _

_She tried to cry out. "No, don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Not again." But the words wouldn't come out. She was choking and coughing as water flooded her lungs. The darkness receded. She was wandering in a forest. Twisting branches tangled her face and hair, but she kept running, brushing them aside. Something was ahead, something important. But suddenly she realized they weren't branches. Snakes were constricting her limbs, binding her and weighing her down. Thick twisting coils of scales crawling down her body and preventing her from moving. Darkness rushed in, blinding her and she covered her face. _

_When she took her hands away, she found herself trapped in a room. There was no doorway, only smooth rock all around her. "You can't keep hiding." Luna said to her, embracing her in a tight hug. "I know." Hermione replied, puzzled at where this was going. _

_The hands holding her lengthened and thickened. "Ronald!" She shrieked as he began to slowly undress her. She giggled as he tickled her and nuzzled into her neck. "Stop it, we'll be late." _

"_No babe, stay with me." He pleaded. She turned and kissed him on the mouth gently. "Silly lion, we have all the time in the world. Just … let … me…" What was it that she had to do again? _

"_Ron? Where are you?" _

"_I'm here." A muffled voice came from behind a tree. Hermione frowned. "Why are you behind the tree?" She shook her head in exasperation. " Never mind, come out. I have a present for you." She purred playfully. When no answer came, she laughed. "Alright. I'll come find you." She began to peel away the bark, but beneath each layer was another and she quickly panicked. Tearing at the wood until her hands bled, she persevered until, suddenly, she broke through and stumbled onto a stone floor. To her horror, a wasteland stretched as far as her eye could see. Broken buildings, smashed stone ramparts and shattered window panes greeted her. In a small circle around her, bones piled up so high she could not even see the top of the sky. A child's voice was singing. _

"_One. Two. Three. Four. Five." Hermione whirled around, looking for the child's voice. "Once I caught a fish alive."_

"_Where are you?" She cried, falling to her knees and feeling tears well in her eyes. _

"_Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. _

_Then I let it go again. _

_Why did you let it go?_

_Because it bit my finger so._

_Which finger did it bite?_

_The little finger on the right."_

"_Please, I need more time." The world was cracking and Hermione knew she needed to leave. A wicked laughter. The little child skipped down from the mountain of bones. "Time is all you have. Here. Have more." With a start, Hermione recognized the child as herself. "Wait." She called out. The world was crumbling away now, darkness bleeding in through the cracks._

"_Wake up." Hermione woke._

The bed she was on was soft and warm, and it took some effort to convince her lazy body to sit up. As she stretched her sore limbs, the snug fur sheet that covered her began to slide down. She realized she was still naked and quickly wrapped it around herself, feeling embarrassed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she realized she was in a small wooden cabin.

"Hey there lass. You feelin' better?" An old man sat by a flickering firelight. The age lines on his face spoke of years of hardship, and Hermione noticed that there was a well worn crossbow lying carefully over his lap. A hunter of some sort, she gathered from her initial inspection. A bloodhound was curled in front of the fireplace, sleeping soundly.

"Ye-es." Her voice was slightly cracked and she cleared her throat a few times to get her vocal cords working. "How… how long have I been out?"

The old man seemed to relax at her question and slowly hung his crossbow on a nearby coat rack. "I'd say er, bout five months roughly. Old man winter rolled in bout couple weeks 'go."

Hermione felt her jaw drop. She had been out for five months? "I din't know if yer was goin' ta pull through. It was touch an' go a few times. Thank the lord you lived lass." At he mention of god, he dipped his head as if to offer a silent prayer.

"Thank you." She said it softly, slightly overwhelmed by the kindness he had shown her. He had tended to her for five whole months.

His smiled at her, before averting his gaze in shame. "When I firs' met ya, I thought to meself that yer was one of them madfolk. I guess it was jus' the sickness talkin'. Sorry bout Charlie, I din't want any trouble." He gestured to the crossbow.

Hermione chuckled softly. "I guess it was." She fell silent again, feeling completely lost. She had half hoped that when she woke it would be to her home in London, beside an amused husband who would no doubt laugh at her fantastical dream of time travelling back to the first century and meeting Ignotus Peverell. But now she knew that it was all real.

"Milady, do ya wan' something ta eat? I've got a fine stew cookin' if I may say so." Hermione suddenly realized how ravenous she was. Feeling flattered that he was calling her a lady, she replied. "Yes, please…" Only to realize she didn't even know what his name was. "And by what name should I call my savior?" She teased him slightly, and even in the faded firelight, she could see a blush steal across his face.

"Er, jus' call me Alan, milady." He quickly distracted himself by scooping a hearty portion of stew from a cooking pot over the fireplace into an oval wooden bowl and grabbed a spoon from the solitary table in the small cabin. Giggling softly, she reached out from under the blankets and accepted the steaming bowl. She made sure to eat it slowly, knowing that rushing would do more harm than good.

"I'm flattered to be called a lady," She said upon finishing the stew and settling back on the bed. "But please call me Hermione."

Alan the hunter flushed red and quickly shook his head. "I couldn', milady. It ain't proper." Hermione frowned for a second. "I must insist, it feels disconcerting to be called a lady when I am not."

The old man looked at her in confusion and bewilderment, then broke out in a low chuckle. "Of course yer a lady, I ain' heard no one speak so well who ain' come from a noble family. Yer prolly still not clear headed jus' yet. It'll come back to ya soon enough, milady." And that was that. Hermione could hardly explain why she spoke so well, and Alan was dead set in calling her by milady.

After her meal of rabbit stew, which tasted absolutely divine, it seemed hunger was the greatest spice, Alan introduced her to Rue the bloodhound, who had woken sometime during their conversation. Rue was a big softy and reminded Hermione of Fang, Hagrid's dog. They both looked tough and mean, but had more bark than bite. She immediately took a liking to Rue and quickly had him curled contently over her lap. Alan relaxed at this and let her play with the dog for a while, before shooing him off and telling her in as stern a voice he could muster that she needed more rest. Hermione only put up a token resistance before agreeing. She still felt a little weak in the limbs.

"Alan, where exactly are we?" Hermione asked the next morning. The old hunter was cleaning and preparing two rabbits for lunch and paused at her question. "Well, I ain' sure where exactly, this area ain' on the maps, milady." He scratched his head before giving a shrug. "In bout a week, Mike will be droppin' by to visit with some goods. I'm sure he'll know where we be, milady."

Hermione thanked him before asking if he had some spare clothes. Alan nodded and withdrew a small package from under the bed. "I got some woman clothes from Mike, he's a good friend o' mine an' he has a girl bout yer age." He busied himself with the rabbits as Hermione dressed herself. As she pulled the tight fitting clothes on, Hermione realized something that almost made her faint. Somehow, she was around fourteen years old. Last she checked, she had been twenty and married. Cursing the Elder Wand in her mind, she pulled the large fur coat and told Alan that she was going to take a walk and get some fresh air. At first Alan told her that he would come, but she protested and they eventually settled for Rue to accompany her and a promise that she would not go any further than twenty steps from the small cabin.

Hermione gazed at the beautiful winter forest that stretched endlessly before her eyes and felt her worries lighten ever so slightly. Rue was running around her excitedly and she obliged him by throwing a thick branch she had found on the ground. He barked happily as he gave chase and rewarded her with a slobbery kiss on the hand when she scratched his head.

She didn't know anything about this era. And that wasn't even the biggest issue. What was she supposed to do? Ignotus' device was ingeniously designed and the first source of open time travel. It was true that she could find the Elder Wand, modify its polarity and try and get back to her own timeline. The only problem? Doing that would change the timeline completely. Dumbledore was supposed to defeat Grindelwald and become the next master of the wand. If she meddled with that, her future would be gone. Perhaps she should just hide away in a remote part of the world and never interact with the outside. Hermione didn't know what to do. She felt frustrated and angry and she didn't know what to do. For once, her mind could give her no solution. Should she try and replicate Ignotus' time travel device? Even if she could, she would need supplies and Hermione was terrified of interacting with the wizarding world. One mistake and her future was eradicated. Already, she had changed a small portion of the muggle world. What if her actions had already invalidated the future? Maybe Alan was supposed to meet the love of his life and have a child who would later grow to become the prime minister? Who knows. By making him care for her over the last five months, had the world already been irrevocably changed?

Hermione fell to her knees and cried. Intellectually, she knew that the future was lost to her. At best, it would be a different one. At worst, a completely new one. But she didn't want to accept it. She cursed Ignotus for meddling with time. _"Bad things happen the wizards and witches who mess with time." _That was the warning she got when she given a simple time turner in her third year to use, but what about traveling fifty-seven years into the past? Three generations away. So close and yet so far.

She was lost and afraid. The desire to hide away pulled at her, and for a second that was all she wanted to do. Live in the forest, hidden away from the world like a fleeting illusion, never ever going into the world. She knew that would be the same thing as killing herself, and if there was one thing she would never accept in any form or way, it was suicide. To give up was not in her blood. A sudden thought came to her mind and she froze. What if she found Ignotus' device, reverse engineered a better version that would enable her to better travel through time and then traveled to where she was now and somehow got rid of herself. Then traveled into the a future where Hermione Granger had never time traveled? Sudden hope flared in her chest and she found herself breathing hard at the thought. In for a penny. In for a dime. Ignotus had meddled with time and brought this situation on her head. Well, she prided herself on being intellectually capable. She'd beat him at this own game. What to do with her past self? She could not obliviate herself, it wouldn't work. And she knew that she wasn't cruel enough to allow herself to be killed. Take her along? She giggled at the thought. Two versions of Hermione traveling into the future. Wouldn't Ron be surprised? She burst out laughing, collapsing onto the snow as Rue tackled her and licked her across the face. She sighed deeply, and looked around at the beautiful forest before slowly getting up to return to the cabin.

She would find a way back home. No matter the cost. And if she had to go against the very laws of magic to do so? Well, she'd already broken so many of them. What was one more?

"How're ya feelin', milady?" Alan asked when she returned, face a little flush from the chill of winter. It was a good feeling and Hermione beamed at him happily. "I feel much better." Alan looked relieved. Hermione could not explain to Alan everything that had happened, but she felt like she owed him an answer of sorts. He had been patient, tending to her needs and caring for her as if she was his family.

"I was lost." She said carefully. Alan, who had been cleaning the pot, stopped at her words. He didn't say anything, just looked at her and listened. "I was taken away from my family," _by a crazy foolish imbecile of a wizard_, "I didn't know how to get back to them so I ran for a long time. I ended up here," _in this era and world, _"with nothing and no one to help me. But now I know how get back to them. There is a place I need to go to and a few people I need to meet." She looked up at him, realizing only then that there were tears trickling down her cheeks. "I'm scared. I feel as if everything I do might be a mistake."

Alan walked over, and in an uncharacteristic act, he hugged her tightly. "It's alrigh'. Yer a strong lass, and it's okay ta feel scared. Believe in yerself, an' ya'll be jus' fine." Hermione felt her worry slowly bleed away and she returned his hug fiercely. "Thank you." She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you for everything." He seemed to realize he was touching her at this point and blushed as he let go.

"Er, certainly milady." She smiled fondly as he busied himself with cleaning the pot, his face bright red at his breach of decorum.

Mike was a wandering merchant who dropped off supply bundles for Alan every season in exchange for some of Alan's collection of animal pelts and horns. They bargained a bit, before Mike agreed to take Hermione to the nearest village in exchange for an exquisite fox pelt. When it was time to go, Hermione found herself weeping at the kindness Alan had shown her.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me." She said, hugging him tightly. "I wish there was some way I could repay you for your help."

"It was nothin', milady." Alan patted her on the head and smiled sadly. "I had a gurl once. She was a fierce un, always yellin' bout seein' the world and travelin'. I din't want her ta go, but fore she could, she fell ill. I wish I could'a been there to help her." Alan was crying now, and Hermione felt a pang of sorrow wash over her. "When I saw yer back in tha' glade, it was like the almighty lord had givin me 'nother chance. I couldn' help my lass, but I'm thankful yer lived through the illness. I want ya to have this." He pulled out a small bracelet made of wood and silver. It was intricately carved with a flowing pattern that resembled the petals of a flower. Alan helped her put it on and showed her how the clasp worked. "Fer good luck, milady." He said bashfully. "I made it for …" He trailed off wistfully, and Hermione knew who he was talking about. They hugged each other for a little longer, before Alan finally let go and ruffled her on her head. "Ya stay strong now. Go an' see the world an' find yer way home. I know ya'll be able to. Jus' be careful, milady."

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady and stepped into Mike's wagon. She watched until Alan and Rue faded from her sight. She wrapped her warm fur coat around herself and smiled. Lulled by the gentle sway of the wagon, she fell asleep feeling warm and content.

The soft murmur of voices woke her from her peaceful slumber. Two men were talking a little way off and she recognized one of them as Mike, his sandy hair contrasting sharply with the snowy background. She stretched her limbs, feeling blood rushing through them and slowly stood from her seated position. Neither men realized she was awake and she didn't want to intrude. Still, curiosity peaked, she strained her ears to listen to what was being said.

"-twenty silver and that's far as I'll go." The other man's voice was gruff and coarse.

"C'mon." Mike whined. "She's _noble_. Ya'll be sure ta git gold when ya sell 'er ta the slavers."

A scoff. "Lik I believe ye. Since when ye ever seen dem nobles 'fore. Twenty silvers. Take it or leave it." He spat on the ground, and shoved Mike back. "I'm done wastin' time 'ere."

Mike stumbled a little and shrunk back. "She talks all proper, I 'eard her meself. And Alan the hunter, he found her an' he calls her _milady_."

A flicker of movement allowed Hermione to catch a glimpse of the other man as he stepped away from the tree he was behind. He was wearing a hood and and only thing that she could see was a rifle casually slung across his shoulders. Behind him, a few meters away, a campfire was lit and a circle of men chatted around it. Each was armed in some way. Behind them, a cargo truck of some sort sat. A man was guarding the back of the truck and he was smoking a cigarette, all the while throwing cross looks in the direction of where Mike and the hooded man were talking. Suddenly, he spat out his cigarette butt and whipped open the back of the truck's canopy and barked something inside. The distance was too far for Hermione to hear, but she caught sight of what was inside and her heart skipped a beat. Children, naked and in chains. The man let go of the canopy and Hermione lost vision of them. Slavers. She didn't have to be a genius to realize who Mike was talking about. Quietly, she crept away from the wagon. Seeing her footprints on the snow made her curse that it was winter. She wished she still had her wand. Then she could… she trailed off. Curse the men? Save the children? She felt anger cloud her mind and she quickly relaxed herself. Anger would not help. First she needed to get away. She would not be able to help anyone if she was in chains. Hermione made sure her footsteps led to the main road, before doubling back and scaling a nearby tree with low hanging branches. Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she balanced precariously on the thin crisp branch. _Please don't break. _She thought to herself. Carefully, she scaled the tree and waited. Mike and the hooded man had reached some sort of agreement, and they began walking toward his wagon. When they saw that she was gone and found her footsteps leading to the main road, the hooded man had swore and smacked Mike on the back of his head.

"Idiot. She musta heard some'in. Ya shoulda bound her hands an' feet. Git outta ma sight." Mike whimpered and quickly left.

The hooded man cursed and spat on the ground before leaving. "Noble my ass. Prolly jus' a wench from some town." He headed back and called out to the men. "We're leavin' in thirty minutes. Pack up!" One of the man began to stamp out the fires while another went to check on their cargo.

Hermione didn't know what to do. The only magic she could use wandlessly were a few simple charms and even then they weren't going to do her any good right now. She knew the smart thing was to leave, find a town and tell them what was happening and hope they could contact the authorities. But she also knew if she did that, it would be a long shot for them to find these slavers. Luckily for her, the light was fading and the shadows were lengthening. Daylight was fading and it would help her sneak into one of the trucks. She needed to distract the guard at the back of the truck. Slowly, she took off her fur overcoat and grimaced. She liked it a lot and didn't want to give it up. But sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. She hung it on a low branch from a tree a few steps away from the camp and crept away and waited. Once she was on the opposite side of the trees, she sent a colored ball of light in the direction of her coat. Shivering slightly, she saw the guard catch sight of the peculiar ball of light. Then he saw her fur coat and swore. Muttering something she didn't understand, he trekked toward it while calling to the other men. They were busy packing and erasing traces of their presence and didn't react much apart from a shout. Hermione saw her opportunity. She quickly dashed to the back of the truck, heart pounding with each step, hoping no one caught sight of her. She lifted the flaps and darted inside quickly.

She hurriedly made a shushing noise and placed a finger over her lips. The children looked at her in surprise and shock, but they didn't make any noise. Outside, she heard the stomp of feet as the guard returned. "Was jus' a fur coat. Dunno who left it," here he laughed raucously before continuing. "But it's warm and smells good. I'mma keep it."

Hermione felt disgust and anger in the pits of her stomach, but gritted her teeth and slowly crept to the front of the truck. The children were now gazing at her in awe, most of them no older than nine at the most. They were all malnourished and filthy. "I'm here to help." She said fiercely in a hushed whisper. "I'm going to get you all out of here. I promise." The inside of the truck was cold and dark, a small slice of hell made real. Chains were attached to each of the slaves and the side of the truck. Who could do such a thing to these children without a hint of remorse? Something dark slithered in her chest, but before her thoughts were fully formed, one of the smaller girls perked up and spoke.

She asked with a hint of awe in her voice. "Ar', ar' ya an angel?" Her voice was quiet as a mouse and soft as a butterfly's wing. It sounded so hopeful that Hermione didn't want to say no.

Shaking her head slightly, she smiled mischieviously at the young girl. "Something like that." She held her hands together and cupped them. Winking at the young girl, she whispered, "Can you keep a secret?" The girl nodded quickly and Hermione concentrated. A soft glow began to emanate from her hands and a small orb of heat and light flared gently into existence between her cupped hands.

Murmurs and whispers broke out from all around her as the other children looked at her in awe. "I'm a witch," Hermione winked at the little girl and gently placed the small orb of heat and light into her frail hands. "And this… this is magic."

The young girl let out a gasp of shock and stammered out, "But… witches are bad." Hermione winced. Maybe she should have just said she was an angel? _Too late now_, she thought to herself. "Not all witches are bad. I'm a good witch," she said softly as she patted the girl on her head. The other children crowded around them, desperately seeking the small ball of heat and

light and Hermione felt her heart ache.

_How could those men do this. What monsters could do this to these children?_ For the first time in a long time, she felt a deep dark desire flare inside her. She wanted to hurt them, make them feel pain and regret. She wanted to see them writhe in agony and beg for mercy, only for it to be denied to them… Hermione cut off that train of thought and slowly cleared her mind. Emotions were tricky things and it would not help her any if she gave in to them and did something reckless. That was Harry and Ron's job, hers was to be the voice of reason. With a soft rumble, the truck began to move.

She knew that the sun would set in an hour or so, and then she could put her plan into motion. She had counted four men, a driver, the hooded man who no doubt was the leader and two guards. The two guards both had a pistol each and a the rear guard had a knife strapped to his thigh. Their leader carried a rifle and probably also had a knife stashed on him somewhere. She wasn't sure what arms the driver carried, but on the safe side she would assume that they all had a gun and knife. Her only chance at getting them out was when they were on the move. She would have to incapacitate the guard at the back of the truck and free the children from their chains. Then they would jump off the moving truck, hopefully leaving the slavers on idea that their cargo had escaped. It would have to be done in the dark to prevent the three men at the front from finding out.

Hermione patiently sat, arms wrapped around the young girl holding the light while the others huddled around them. Some of the children were falling asleep, lulled by the ball of heat and warmth. The young girl holding it continued to stare at her in awe. The sheer amount of hope in that gaze made her hurt. How could she afford to fail now? It simply wasn't an option anymore. The girl's eyes were so innocent and childish that it wiped away any doubts on whether she had made the right choice. _This must be why I was in Gryffindor._ She wryly remarked to herself, before catching herself guiltily. _I of all people should not let my prejudices carry me away._ She had known brave people from all four of the houses, Gryffindor did not hold exclusive claim on that trait.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked the young girl softly and the tiny child gave a radiant smile. "Ma name is Eva..." There was a pause as she stuttered over the next syllable. "ge...gelina."

Hermione smiled at this and parroted her name back. "Evangelina?" Evangelina nodded rapidly.

"It's a good name. May I call you Eva for short?"

The young girl thought for a second before giving a toothy smile. "Okay!" She beamed at Hermione, who let out a soft giggle at her exuberance. It was amazing that the girl was still able to smile like that considering where they were.

After a while, Hermione decided it was time. Slowly, she clambered to her feet. The children gathered around her stirred and she motioned for those still awake to rouse the rest. "I'm going to get rid of your chains now. Don't be surprised and stay as quiet as you can." She looked all of them over, making sure they all understood before closing her eyes and concentrated on aligning her will with her magic. This would likely be the hardest piece of wandless magic she needed to do tonight and a failure here could ruin everything. A wide spread unlocking charm was tricky to do even with a wand, and she could ill afford to fail now.

"_Alohamora."_ She muttered as loudly as she dared and threw both her hands out. Something invisible but tangible, like a wave of air burst from around her. Every single chain in the truck snapped open with an audible clack. Hermione froze. She heard the guard outside give a startled yelp. Moving like a snake, she weaved past the stunned children and managed to reach the back door just as the guard flung it open.

"Oy, what's goin' on 'ere?" The guard saw her and his eyes widened in surprise and shock, but before he could say anything, she knife-punched him in the throat with her knuckles. As he choked, her other hand released a round ball of light that flared upon contact with the air, blinding everyone in the truck except Hermione, who had closed her eyes in anticipation. As the man stumbled back, choking and half blind, she grabbed his collar and slammed him down onto the ground. She knew that once he recovered, he would overpower her easily as her physical form was nothing compared to that of a grown man. She went for his knife, pulling it from the sheath and quickly placed it against his neck. She flipped him into a sitting posture and slid around until she was neatly behind him. Then she dug her knee into his back, preventing him from gaining any leverage against her position. Her smaller frame aided her and she smiled coldly as he shook his head in a slight daze before freezing as the knife drew a thin red line across his neck.

Hermione was no stranger to killing. You could not fight a war, much less win one if you weren't ready to commit everything into it. Hermione had weighed her love for her two greatest and best friends against her humanity and chose the former without hesitation. But she never enjoyed it.

"Let go of the gun. Now." Her voice was ice cold and firm. The man instantly dropped the pistol and it clattered onto the floor of the truck. "Eva," Hermione called gently. "Can you pick that up for me?"

The small girl crawled forward and quickly snatched the gun, holding it awkwardly in her hands. "Good girl." Hermione praised and Eva blushed as she shifted from foot to foot. Everything was going well when Hermione felt the truck begin to slow. Her heart tried to leap out of it's cage and she felt panic surge through her. Did they hear something? Was it time to stop? Please don't be the latter, she thought desperately.

Thankfully, a man's voice called from the front of the truck. "Oy Nicolas, everythin' good back there? Thought I heard somethin'."

"Tell them everything is alright. You stubbed your toe against the side of the truck." Hermione hissed into Nicolas' ear. "Or I swear by all that is divine I will slit your throat and leave you to die here."

The man gulped and the movement brought his adam's apple in contact with the cold edge of the blade. Hermione slowly withdrew her knife a few inches away from his throat to let him talk. "Every… everythin'... all good." He licked his lips nervously as he yelled back. "I jus' stubbed me toe that's all."

A raucous laugh was heard. "Ha! Clumsy fool." The truck engine roared and with a lurch they were moving again.

"Good boy." Hermione purred into his ear before turning to Eva. "Eva, can you open the flaps?" Eva let go of the gun with one hand and used it to pull the green canopy open. The truck was moving at a moderate pace and Hermione judged it to be safe enough to jump off. She turned to the other children. "On a count of three, you're all going to jump off the truck. Make a line. Ready?"

Eva nodded and the other children scrambled into a makeshift line. Some were scared, others had looks of determination on their faces, but they all knew that this was their only chance of escape.

"One. Two. Three. Go!" The children leapt out of the truck, one after the other until only Hermione and Eva were left. Hermione pushed the man out roughly, uncaring if he hurt himself and grabbed Eva with her free hand and hopped off the truck. Within seconds, the truck faded into the distance, leaving them in darkness. "Give me the gun, Eva." She whispered to the young girl and felt the cold butt of the gun smack into her hand. Quickly grasping the pistol, she stashed the knife into her waist belt and conjured another ball of light and heat. Nicolas was on the ground, moaning in pain. He must have fallen onto the ground at an awkward angle. Hermione didn't feel guilty in the slightest. The other children saw the light and quickly ran toward it until they were all huddled around Hermione again. Nicolas gazed at with undisguised fear.

"What…" He stammered. "What 're ya?" His terrified eyes sent a thrill of adrenalin through Hermione and she felt her magic stir awake like a slumbering dragon. Ignoring him, Hermione did a quick headcount. Twelve mops of unruly hair meant twelve children which meant they were all here. Breathing a sigh of relief that no one had gotten lost, Hermione turned to Eva with the small orb of light. "Could you hold this for me, Eva?" At her nod, Hermione passed it to her. Holding the pistol firmly, she gestured to Nicolas.

"Give me back my coat ." Nicolas looked at her in bewilderment before realization dawned on him. Shakily, he removed the coat. "That light… in the fores'. Ya did it!"

Hermoine studied him long and hard and thought about what to do. "My instincts tell me to get rid of you." His eyes widened in panic and he scrambled to his feet shakily. His blonde hair swayed in the wind and she was struck by how young he was. He could not have been more than seventeen. He balanced shakily on his good leg and opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off. "Any man who could do such a thing, to children no less, is nothing but scum." Under the light of the orb, Hermione realized just how young Nicolas was. Sixteen? Seventeen? On the verge of manhood, but not yet a man. The baby fat still lingered in his cheeks and his eyes were too open for someone in this line of work. "But I'll give you another chance." Nicolas nodded quickly, relief flashing across his face.

It made for a strange sight indeed. A group of ragtag children led by two teenagers, one of which was limping. Behind them, a small ball of light provided heat and vision for the travelling group. Eventually the road led them to what looked like a city. Street lamps littered the road and buildings grew out of the trees. They continued walking and as Hermione pondered on what to do next, a flashlight appeared from around a corner and movement was heard. Quickly, Hermione extinguished the ball of light and heard Eva's startled cry. The cold seeped in, as the heat provided by the orb began to bleed away.

"Who goes 'ere?" A man's voice called out. The harsh glare of the flashlight prevented her from seeing the speaker clearly. As the light fell upon them, the man gave a start at the sight before him. "Children? At this time o' the night? Wha' in the name o' Lord."

Hermione was getting slightly annoyed at this and stepped forward. "We need shelter and food. If you are done gaping at us?"

The man lifted the flashlight and Hermione caught sight of his deep green uniform. A police officer. He was also hurridly stowing away the gun he had taken out. "Righ'. Come wit' me."

He led them to a flat rectangular building with multiple windows and a large wooden door that had glass panels on each side. As they stepped inside, Hermione gave a sigh of relief. It was warm inside, soft puffs of warm air banished the cold fingers of winter. Several other police officers were milling about, and they looked up when they heard the noise of multiple feet on the wooden floor. The police officer leading them was a stout man, his grey hair was neatly cut and his features were somewhat plain, had it not been for his sharp blue eyes that made look younger than he actually was.

"Barry, whassat ya got there?" A man's gruff voice called out. "Who'd ya arrest this time? By the Lord, where'd all these children come from?" He broke off in astonishment as he caught sight of the group.

"We'll need ta get blankets and food fer em firs', mind 'elping me out 'ere, David?" Barry, the officer that had found them in the town, gestured to the ragged clothes of the children.

"O'course. O'course. Isaac, fetch them blankets from the storage room. Paul, get ta the bakery and bring back some loafs an' milk. Oh an', Alison dear, can ya get Dr. Hart on the line." David directed the others before turning to look at Hermione and Nicolas. Hermione had given Eva her fur coat earlier and was now wearing a warm dress with buttons. He was clearly the chief of the police station, wearing a uniform that was decorated with several medals and he was much older than Barry. He was bald and fat, but a sort of cheery rotundness that made him seem harmeless and joyful at the same time. His personality certainly fit his appearance as he beamed at them despite his confusion at what was going on.

Upon finishing giving orders, he looked over to where the two teens stood. Nicolas was leaning on Hermione, still unable to stand alone. Quickly, his eyes glossed over Hermione and fell on the older teen. "Now then. What's going on 'ere?" The chief asked, turning to Nicolas. The young teen looked confused for a second, then froze. He looked fearfully at Hermione, unsure of what to say.

She cursed herself silently in her mind, she had been so caught up in making sure they made it safely to shelter, that it had completely slipped her mind what to do after. How was she going to explain this? The gun in her inner pocket would be difficult to explain. The journey through the forest would also be nearly impossible to explain. A ball of heat and light? Preposterous. Thinking quickly, she stepped forward.

"We found a truck." She began hesitantly, trying to be as truthful as she could. "These children were chained inside it just outside of town. Nicolas here," Hermione paused and turned to look at him. Apart from their brown hair, they shared no other similarity. No way to pass him off as a brother or cousin. "Is my guardian," she continued carefully. "We were on our way to London, when we caught sight of the slavers. Nicolas snuck into the truck and freed the children, afterwhich we ran until we came here."

David was looking at her sceptically. "Is tha' righ'?" He muttered softly in reply. There was nothing wrong with the explanation per se, but his carefully honed detective senses were tingling that something was not right here. Still, the girl and the boy were too young to be up to something nefarious and the children were indeed malnourished and mistreated. Besides, either the girl was a really good actor, or she was telling the truth. Shrugging, he put out his hand for Nicolas to shake.

"Ya did a good thing, lad." Nicolas took his hand and shook it warily, still not talking. "We'll take care of the children from 'ere. Yer both welcome ta stay and eat with em. I'm sure yer all starving from all the running. Barry'll take care of ya both. I'll be filin' a report on this and I'll need ya to answer some questions later." With that said, he turned and walked away.

"Sir," Hermoine interjected before he was out of earshot. He turned, curious. "Do you know how to get to London from here? I… we...have some family out there." She amended quickly remembering her cover story.

David looked at her sharply for a second before answering. "There's a train that'll take ya to the central station in London. It passes every second hour, til midnight."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at him innocently and his expression softened a little. He turned away again.

"Barry, keep an eye on those two, would ya? I've a feeling somethin' is amiss. But no need to do anythin' just yet, they seem like good folk." He said under his breath to Barry, who nodded carefully.

"Consider it done, sir."

David snorted and slapped Barry on the back. "None o' that now, you were doing good earlier. Like I said, call me David. I ain't that old jus' yet." He chuckled softly.

Hermione grimaced as the portly chief waddled off. She didn't need to use legilimency to see that he was sceptical of her story. She had omitted quite a large chunk of it after all. Sighing, she relaxed. The important thing was that the children were safe. Besides, she smiled softly, there were worse things than lying to the police.

"Er." Nicolas was looking at the ground. "Wha… what're ya gonna do now, um… miss?" Hermione shook her head. "Call me Her… Jane." She cut herself from saying her real name. "We won't stay long enough for them to find out anything." She looked at him sharply. "..." Before she could say anything, she saw the small pelting figure of Eva rushing at her. Taken aback, she braced herself and smiled when the young girl hugged her fiercely around the waist.

"Thank ya!" Hermione stroked her hair softly, and shook her head when the young girl held out her fur coat. "Keep it, it will keep you warm over the winter."

At this moment, the door opened and a cold draft rushed in. Moments later, a tall thin police officer walked in with a bundle of bread and a case full of milk jars. "Food's 'ere!" He cried out happily.

While they ate, Hermione discreetly looked around the station for a means of distraction. She had a niggling feeling that they were being watched. David probably didn't buy her explanation and she had no desire to get interrogated after the food. Eva was also sneaking looks at her, as if reassuring herself that Hermione was really there. She felt a pang of sorrow at having to leave the young girl, but she was in no position to help the young child. Nicolas pulled at her sleeves gently and she turned to look at him inquisitively.

"What's up?" He looked at her perplexed for a second. "I mean, what is it?" Hermione amended hastily, realizing that the colloquial she was familiar with was completely foreign in the 40s.

"That police officer keeps lookin' at us." Nicolas nodded toward the policeman who had brought them in and Hermione found the man looking at them impassively. "I'll think of something." Hermione whispered back distractedly.

It would be so much easier if she just left Nicolas behind. Glancing at the thin blond, she contemplated leaving him to the police. He looked around skittishly and bit his lower lips before turning to her pleadingly. She smiled confidently at him, and placed a hand on his. "Don't worry. I will find a way." She promised. He breathed out and weakly smiled back.

Turning her head again, Hermione wondered how she was going to get out of this situation. Some flashly lights were hardly going to avail her here and basic charms, no matter how overpowered she could make them, would be nigh useless. A sudden thought struck her. Yes. That would work.

Grinning, she turned to Nicolas. "I've got an idea. I'll need your help though." Nicolas looked at her puzzledly. "No time to explain. I need you to distract the police officer, just keep him talking. I will take care of the rest." Pushing the still perplexed teen to his feet, she headed toward the restrooms. Barry made to stand and follow, but Nicolas quickly intercepted and blocked him off.

Hermione broke into a run as she rounded the corner and cast a nifty nightvision charm on herself as she approached her target. It was the central circuit for the electricity running in the building. The panel was secured by a weighty lock that looked quite formidable. Nothing an unlocking charm couldn't take care of. She scrutinised the different wires and bit her lower lips. She wasn't sure which one governed the lights, there were too many colored wires. _Red? Blue? Yellow? Green?_ _Oh for heaven's sake. Just cut them all Hermione, stop diddling around._ Hesitation would get her killed, that was the first lesson she learned in the war. _Diffindo._ She focused her will and each of the wires snapped apart cleanly. Instantly, the entire hall was plunged into darkness and an alarm began to sound. Sprinting back the way she came, Hermione heard voices cry out in panic, but they were all swallowed by the shrill blare of the alarm. Spotting Nicolas beside Barry, who was looking around wildly, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the exit.

"Follow me," She hissed as loudly as she dared. "Before the backup lights come up." They made it through the main entrance just as a muted whine informed her that the emergency lights had lit. "Run!" She cried and together the two of them sprinted away from the police station. They ran for a good minute before slowing down. Hermione panted, feeling her lungs protesting at her sudden physical exertion and turned to Nicolas. He was bent over, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

"That… was… brill!" He managed to get out and Hermione giggled breathlessly. "Now then, why don't you tell me why you didn't want the police finding out about you?"

The blond froze, and Hermione frowned. "Look. I'm in the same boat as you, besides, I didn't run away just so I can turn you over to the police again."

Nicolas shuffled a little before sighing. "All righ'. I suppose I owe ya one fer that." Together, they walked toward the town's extrance. After a few steps, the blond began to speak.

"Me ma was a cleanin' girl fer a rich folk. She got into it wit' the family's second son and got preggers wit' me." He paused and Hermione didn't need legilimency to feel the rage and anger in his spirit. "She knew it weren't safe so she ran. The rich folk didn' wan no scandal, so they hushed things up. Ma passed me to 'er sister and told her ta raise me as her own. They… they found her body in a ditch some months later. It was dem basterds. I'm sure o' it. I didn' know til a few years later. I ran away from home, and got caught by some slavers. Didn' wanna die so I jus' did what they said ta do." He shrugged. "Dunno how I began ta work fer em, it jus' kinda happened."

They reached the forest and Hermione turned to the young man. "What will you do now?" She asked him gravely.

He looked wistfully into the brightening sky. "Suppose it's time ta go home. I'm gonna find me aunt an' tell 'er … something."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose this is where we part ways. Best of luck, Nicolas."

The blond looked at her, suddenly a little nervous. "Me name's Jonathan. Ain't Nicolas." He spat into the ground at this. Hermione took out his knife and handed it back to him. "Best of luck, Jonathan."

He smiled at her and nodded. "Thanks, miss witch. Yer not like them witches in the stories." Hermione snorted at that. "Hmph." She watched him walk away and sighed to herself. "What twisted webs we spin." She turned toward the rising sun and shielded her eyes from the rosy hue of dawn's first rays. _Finite._ Her vision faded to normal and she began to trudge back toward the town. She needed to get on that train for London.

It was slightly chilly without her overcoat, but it was nothing she could not handle. She pulled her hood over her head and carefully walked in the shadows of the nearby houses. Finding the train station was much easier than she thought it would be, but the two police officers patrolling the entrance to the station put a dampener on her cheerful mood. She probably should not have told the chief inspector where she was going. Cursing under her breath, she slid into a nearby alleyway and spent the next hour or so watching them. At the end of her reconaissance, she was cold, tired and hungry. She was also sure that there was no way for her to sneak past them. They were fastidious and diligent in their guard duty. Why could they not have been lazy and undisciplined? _The war._ She thought to herself. Sighing, she thought about her options. _She could try and use magic to disguise herself and sneak past them. She could try and wait them out. They would give up… eventually. Or she could try and follow the train tracks to the next town and board the train there. _

If she had her wand, things would be so much simpler, but without her focus Hermione wasn't sure that her charms would hold under careful scrutiny. Option two was too dangerous, they would be sending out patrols to find her, she needed to get out the town as quickly as possible. That left option three. Hopefully the next town wasn't that far off. With her luck, who knew. Scowling, Hermione circled around the train station until she caught sight of the railroad. She made a small orb of heat under her jacket and began to walk alongside the metal tracks.

_To London. To Hogwarts. To find Grindelwald. The Elder Wand. _Hermione closed her eyes briefly. Red hair and freckles. Ron. _To home_.

_**Reviewing makes me happy.**_

**_If I am happy, then I write more._**

**_So, please review!_**


	3. Impetus

**A.N. Just think of the slavery elements as human trafficking, and know I had no real intention of following that up with anything. Even I was a little confused at times writing it. But by then I was a few hundred words in and I didn't feel like stopping. **

**Also, Alan is kinda cliched, the whole 'I saved ya, cause ya remind me o' mah little girl who passed away because of _ (insert tragic death)', but I felt like it would help Hermione adjust if she wasn't just thrown in the middle of a hospital during wartime. After all, she's been thrown out of her timeline!? If this doesn't cause her to panic, then I have no idea what will. **

**Thanks for the review, I do wish more people reviewed. *HINT HINT* Need I use a sledgehammer to convey my point?**

**By the way, I may have intentionally ignored the magical communities outside of GB in my intro scenario. Can we just pretend there aren't any? Despite the whole Beauxbatons and Durmstrang school. Ouch. Let's assume they got wiped really early and their ministries defaulted to the MoM in GB? Um… yeah. And that somehow the only wizarding community that exists dwell in GB… And no one trying to flee the law will think of settling in another region of the world… and that magic holds true everywhere the same way… ugh… please don't kill me...**

**So Hermione… how strong is she? Very. But there is a large difference between fighting as a three man team where the two others are both strong duelists with one being extremely powerful but with little control and the other being a somewhat reckless fool who doesn't know the meaning of fear, and fighting alone. Also, she's stuck in a fourteen year old body with a twenty one year old magical core. The dissonance is going to cause her spells to go a little wonky. Also, her physical endurance is gone and her muscles do not respond the way she is used to. Her emotions are much harder to control and she is still in the middle of grieving for all the friends and family she lost during the war. She is also 25% insane. At least. **

**But really, if fighting could solve the world's problems… ha! As if. I hold by the tenant of the pen is mightier than the sword. 90% of the time. Okay… at least 75%. You'll give me 50% for sure, right? Right?!**

**Albus Dumbledore and … more importantly… Tom Riddle. They are going to be very important. I chose this year because Riddle is beginning his whole descent into the Dark Arts. But seeing how I'm 30k words in and they are nowhere to be seen… let's just say I have my work cut out for me. **

**Our main antagonist? Well… you'll find out shortly. I mean, did you really think he was going to roll over and give up his wand? Nuh-uh. Epic good guys with great intellect must have epic bad guy with equal intellect as an archenemy. Otherwise it wouldn't be fun!**

**Is she going to Hogwarts as student? No. I tried to think of a rational reason for why a war veteran like Hermione would want to go to a school full of pubescent teenagers trying to outdo one another and I found that I didn't even want to try very hard. Just no. The sheer havoc and inconsistency that would rack up doesn't even begin to describe why it is a bad idea. **

**She cannot tell anyone she is a time traveler. Even if they were to believe her, it would ruin her goal of finding the wand and returning to her original timeline. **

**At best, she would turn the entire MoM against her, at worst they would actively hunt her down and force the truth from her. **

**She would feel trapped in school and all the restrictions to protect teenagers from doing silly things would effectively hamstring her goal of hunting for Grindelwald.**

**That isn't to say Hogwarts won't play an important part of the story, Hermione needs allies despite her desire to do this alone and whether she wants it or not, Albus Dumbledore is going to play a part in this story. Because I want it… **

**Concerning how magic works? Yeah, I'm still working on it. Mostly wondering how I am going to make it work. The thing is, I like magic where spells don't necessarily require specific intent, what I mean by that is the magician can summon a localized firestorm; basically what most games do with their magic. AoE rain of death, flashy, great looking, sends chills down my back. Yet at the same time, HP is more focused on spells with specific intent. Green beam of death, cutting, tripping, cheering, blah blah blah. They don't mesh well together. What if someone uses a spell to spew fire and the other sends a cutter? Do they clash? Does it just go through? And don't get me started on transfiguration… that's just begging for contradictions. Transform a piece of rubble into a lion? Do you know how many rules of physics you just broke? No? Try nearly all of em… Sigh… Let's just be nice and pretend things that don't make sense do make sense and nobody is going to exploit this.**

**So, I noticed in the books a wizard or witch's wand were rather commonplace. Considering their importance, I upped it in this story because I think I would treasure the one thing that enabled me to cast my magic. I mean… Albus Dumbledore without a wand… Let's not go there…**

**And that's it. So… wand… REALLY important. As in, it's the equivalent of your right hand. Lose your wand? You just lost your right hand. Luckily the former isn't permanent. **

**OC. I am going to have to fill the story with so many OCs… you're going to have to bear with me. I'll do my best to make them a little more three dimensional. But since I want to focus on Hermione, some of them are going to be bland and generic. **

Tap. Tap. Tap. He drummed his fingers, deep in thought. _What are you planning, dear friend?_ The wooden chess pieces did not answer and he sighed softly. _Sometimes… I wish… _He reached out and advanced his knight. The checkered board glowed and Gellert Grindelwald knew that thousands of miles away, on another chess board, another knight moved in sync to his. _Your move, Albus. You cannot stay on the defensive forever._

A soft knock sounded and Gellert turned away from the chessboard. "Enter." A woman wearing a tight military uniform entered, her hands clasped behind her back. Her features were sharp and predatory, full lips that tantalized and entranced a person formed an enigmatic half smile. Her beauty was like that of a blade, elegant but deadly. You approached her at your own risk. Her eyes were twin shards of steel, and the way she carried herself spoke of confidence and training. This was not a person you wanted to trifle with.

"General." Her voice was smooth like cloth rustling in the wind. "A letter for you." She held out a manila envelope in one crisp movement.

"Thank you, Vera." Gellert turned away from the table where the chess pieces lay and slowly walked over to take the envelope from her hands.

She bowed her head, and was about to turn to leave when Gellert raised his other hand and gently brushed the side of her face. Her eyes widened in surprise and her heartbeat fluttered like a caged bird. He opened his mouth, as if there was something he desperately wanted to say, but the seconds passed and the moment became brittle, like a sheet of ice too thin to withstand the river's current. Vera fought the urge to lean into his touch and instead withdrew, a well worn mask of impassivity slipping over her. "If there is nothing else, General." Her voice did not tremble, but her mouth was dry and if she blinked a few times too many, no one said anything.

His eyes were sad, and his hand remained in the air as if trying hold onto the wind. Then the moment passed and he nodded quickly. "That is all, you may go." His voice was as composed as ever and his face showed nothing now.

Vera backed away and slipped through the doorway. She braced herself against the wooden door behind her and felt tears well in her eyes. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand and wiped away the half formed tears. She walked away, never looking back.

Gellert stared at his hand, still held mid-air and curled it into a fist. Slowly, he let it drop to his side before placing the envelope on his desk.

The air felt cooler and Gellert wondered if it was his heart that had chilled or the room. He unraveled the string securing the envelope and shook out the documents it contained. They spilled onto the table haphazardly, and it took him an instant before he puzzled out the contents.

Troop movements and blueprints for cities lay in the fading sunlight and a savage smile broke out as he felt his magic surge through him in excitement. The blond wizard chuckled softly in glee. There was a soft whisper in the air, and his magic crackled around him in small bursts of lightning, supercharging the air around him. _Soon. A few more pieces and everything would be in place. _

Vera Amaris Larktail strode into the barracks and coughed as the pungent scent of smoke hit her senses. Seated around a large scale map were five men, each wearing an officer's uniform and they all looked up when she entered. One of them was the culprit for the smoke, the white cigarette protruding from his mouth evidence of his crime and he quickly gave her a sheepish grin when she glared at him. Vera took her wand and waved it around her head, a soft bubble forming behind the wooden stick. It slowly faded into transparency and one of the men whistled, impressed.

"That's a neat trick, I've never seen an invisible bubble-head charm." He spoke slowly and haltingly, with the slow patience of one for whom english was not a native tongue. Though everyone else was seated besides Vera, he was still a full head above everyone else, and even at a cursory glance it was clear he took excruciatingly good care of his physique. He could have been considered handsome at one time, but the jagged scar that went from his forehead to the bridge of his nose served only to make him look grotesque. His eyes were intense, black as ink with hair to match. This was Jaeger Fleischer, master duelist and lead combatant in Grindelwald's army.

"Ha, the subtleties of charms would be wasted on you." The man smoking the cigarette scoffed, but Jaeger did not take offense. He merely turned his gaze on the blond who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Is it your turn today?" Jaeger asked in a semi-serious tone.

The blond looked bewildered at the non-sequitur. "My turn for what?" He answered quizzically.

"To be the asshole of the day." Jaeger smirked as the two others broke into guffaws. The blond groaned. "Oh shut up, you idiots."

The blond was Mikhail Volkov, spymaster and head of intelligence for Grindelwald. Needless to say, the two were good friends and enjoyed some friendly banter from time to time.

Vera plopped herself ungracefully onto an empty chair and pulled out a deck of cards. "Still no orders?" Mikhail asked, looking at her sympathetically.

"No." Her reply was curt, and Mikhail dropped the subject quickly. Gellert was a touchy subject to bring up around Vera, and he knew that there was something going on between them, but no one knew for sure. And everyone was smart enough not to pry. Mikhail prided himself on his observational skills, but even he wasn't suicidal enough to get embroiled in whatever was going on between Gellert and right hand woman.

He paused and threw down his cards in disgust, Jaeger must have rigged his cards while he was distracted, and seeing his smirk Mikhail vowed to avenge himself next round. As the coins he had already committed disappeared into the german's meaty hands, he narrowed his eyes into a fearsome glare that would have sent a lesser man quaking in fear. Jaeger merely grinned. Grunting, Mikhail leaned back, and as he did so he felt a tightening around his lower stomach. His instincts had rarely failed him and now they were telling him that something big was going to happen very soon. For now though, he would enjoy the company of his friends. Hiding his grin, he discreetly palmed an ace, it made taking their money all the sweeter.

Sneaking past the ticket booth was child's work. The plump man in blue uniform was snoozing, not expecting anyone to take the train at four am in the morning. Hermione resisted the urge to giggle as the man twitched in his sleep and quietly shut the door behind her, a one way ticket to London clutched in her hand. Everything was very well organized, and Hermione hesitated for all of two seconds before selecting the pink slip with FIRST CLASS stamped across the small compact piece of paper.

Judging by the train schedule stamped on a nearby bulletin board, the next train would be arriving within the hour. The young witch left the central area and headed to the platform to await the arrival of the train. Just in case the man behind the booth woke up, he would be none the wiser that someone had passed through.

Whistling to herself, Hermione stretched her tired and aching limbs under the brightening sky, knowing it would help her weather the morning to come. She pushed away thoughts of what to do and what could happen, such things were better left for another time. Making plans while sleep deprived was always a bad idea. After what seemed like an eternity, although it was really only twenty minutes, she heard the blare of a horn and the screech of metal rubbing against the rail tracks.

A few seconds later, a black locomotive came into view. In some ways, it reminded her of the Hogwart's Express, except instead of gleaming red and gold steel meshed with beautifully crafted compartments, it was instead a burnished brown and black. The sound was awful too, a loud wail that sounded like someone trying to shatter a mirror with nothing but their voice and the metallic whup whup of the engine made it very hard to think.

A man in red uniform poked a head out and gave a start when he caught sight of her. No doubt surprised that anyone would be boarding the train at such a remote location. He took her ticket and gave it a quick cursory glance before returning it and waving her toward the carriage marked with the number 1.

Inside, she was met with a small hallway surrounded by multiple compartments. The hallway was wide enough for three people to fit side by side and there was a wooden railing that ran along both sides. Looking each compartment over, there were only eighteen of them, Hermione noticed that the seven of them had multiple slips of paper stuck atop the sliding door. Each slip had a destination written over it and she surmised that the number of slips indicated the number occupants within those compartments. The rest were unmarked.

Shrugging, she chose one at random and slid the door open. The compartment it revealed was very spacious, resembling a small living room. There was even room to walk around if one desired to. Shrugging off her undercoat, she hung it in the closet and sank contentedly onto the cushioned couch. As the warmth spread, she gave a small sigh of happiness. No more trudging through snow, hearing the endless crunch of boots on soft ice, while getting facefulls of icy wind that made her extremities burn. She was about to nod off when she heard a soft knock. Groaning, she stood up and slid the door open somewhat grumpily.

"Hello?" She said curtly. The red uniformed ticket collector opened his mouth to say something, then averted his eyes and blushed slightly.

"I'm uh… I need to uh, confirm the ticket." He shuffled from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at her. "If you want… I can come back later."

"No need." Hermione went over the her coat and pulled the pink slip out and handed it to the man. "Here."

He looked it over again and nodded. "It says here London, is it?"

All Hermione wanted to do was sink back onto the couch and sleep, but she gritted her teeth and resisted the fatigue as best she could. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. "Yes, my uncle lives there. I'm going to stay with him for a while." She said in way of explanation, careful to keep her tone neutral.

He sensed her discomfort and quickly handed back her ticket. "Everything seems to be in order. Have a comfortable trip, mam."

As she slid the door closed behind her, Hermione felt her head throb slightly. She was asleep almost before she hit the couch.

_She stood in the middle of the ruins. She whirled, knowing something was very wrong, but somehow she didn't feel panicked at all. She knew this place. Someone was singing, a little girl?_

"_London bridge is falling down, falling down… falling down!" There was something important she needed to remember. What was it? It was on the tip of her tongue._

"_I… I…" She said aloud. What was it? Quickly, before the thought fled again. The stone floor was crumbling beneath her feet. Time's up. She was falling into darkness, strange runes and patterns swirled around her. _

When she awoke, Hermione felt strange. It was a most peculiar feeling, almost as if the world around her was slowing down. She felt out of place, then the absurdity of the feeling hit her and she giggled. She was in the wrong time, of course she was out of place.

Luckily for her, as part of the whole VIP room service, she was able to eat in the peace of her luxurious room. She spent the rest of the time watching the beautiful grass scenery speed past her window and contemplated what the future would bring. When the bleary grey cobblestone of London finally rolled into view, Hermione was more than ready to leave.

The trek from central station to the gateway that led to Diagon Alley gave Hermione ample time to observe the world of the 1940s. To be fair, her mind was mostly focused on how to acquire a wand without any resources to call her own. What little muggle coin she had could not sustain her for long, and the goblins refused to trade currency between the two worlds. For the common witch or wizard, this hardly presented much of a problem, they could use their family name or even sign a contract to pay at a future date. With a small interest rate, of course. Unfortunately, Hermione could not afford to do such a thing. Not only had she popped out of nowhere, quite literally in her case, she had no identity at the Ministry of Magic. In essence, she was the equivalent of a foreign fugitive.

Biting her lips nervously, she made a small side trip to purchase a hooded cloak. This severely depleted her funds and Hermione knew she could not afford to fail in acquiring a wand. For the first time since being dropped in this strange and foreign time, the twenty one year old woman in a fourteen year old body felt completely and utterly alone. Even if she was willing to risk revealing herself to Dumbledore, which she was not, she didn't even have the money to do so.

_Thwack. _She slapped herself firmly on both cheeks. "Come on Hermione, this is no time to dawdle around. You've a world to set right and a timeline to fix, what is this compared to that?"

The gateway wasn't very impressive at all. In fact, it was a strange coincidence that nearly every entrance that led to the wizarding world was in fact disguised as a rather mundane and uninteresting place. The Leaky Cauldron's back alley, which was a rather obvious dead end to anyone passing by, the fake wall between platform 9 and 10 in the central station, and the phone booth that descended into the MoM were all prime examples of the poor architecture of gateways. This one was no different. A broken and run down building loomed ahead, twisted metal jutting out of concrete at broke angles made for a rather dour sight. Shivering ever so slightly, Hermione banished the memories of a broken Hogwarts into the back of her mind. Now was not the time for such reminiscing. The actual door was charmed with a simple muggle repelling ward and Hermione located it rather quickly. Pulling her hood up, she breathed deeply and plunged through the broken wooden door.

Around her, the illusion wavered as she passed, so quick that she barely registered the flicker of magic and then suddenly she was standing at the edge of a bustling metropolitan street brimming with wizards and witches wearing diverse assortments of colorful cloaks. Whereas her grey cloak had caused a small stir in the muggle society, as people cast furtive glances of disapproval in her direction, here she garnered nothing.

She navigated the cobble steps of Diagon Alley, feeling her chest constrict in her chest at the beautifully familiar sight. Oh certainly there were major differences, the road was much rougher than her memories indicated and the signs were all rather blocky and the writing hardly the flowing scripts that she recalled. Flourish and Blott's book store was replaced with Cardigan's Archives, and the potion store whose name always eluded her simple didn't exist. Instead, a candy store of all things stood in its place, with bright and colorful candy displayed in an artistic swirl that shifted and alternated colors in a slow hypnotic sequence. But it was the atmosphere that struck her the most, and brought back a fierce pang of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm her. How long ago had she set foot in a haven such as this? Too long.

Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, gazing but not seeing, entranced by dual overlapping visions of the Diagon Alley before her and the one in her mind's library. Eventually, she was broken out of her reverie as a person roughly barged past her and in the process nearly sending her tumbling onto the ground. The middle-aged man gave her an angry stare, but seeing as her face was covered by the cloak, he only deigned her with another condescending glare before departing as abruptly as he had entered through the gateway. His silver hair strongly reminded her of the Malfoys, who had a genetic predisposition for silvery white hair and she would have bet what little money she had left that the man was a Malfoy. Apparently, some things simply didn't change over time, she mused wryly to herself. Still, she had been blocking the entry way and perhaps he had been having a bad day? Chuckling at the absurdity of the situation, Hermione departed for Ollivander's wand shop.

The tinkle of the bell as she pushed the door open made her smile beneath her cloak. She looked around, seeing no one at the front desk, but that was to be expected. She wandered in a little further, gazing at the piles upon piles of wands stacked in the shelves behind the counter with no small amount of awe. The art of wandmaking was both intricate and difficult, and in another life Hermione would have loved to learn more about them. Alas, all knowledge pertaining to the craftsmanship of them had been irrevocably destroyed during the war.

"Such a travesty," she murmured softly to herself. "Scientia potentia est." Her senses tingled and she felt a presence on her left side, slightly past her peripheral vision and in her blindspot. She tilted her head and caught sight of an elderly man with a monacle. So that certainly disproved the theory that Ollivander had been an immortal wandmaker who had been there since 382 B.C. Ron and Harry had been firmly convinced that Ollivander had been a vampire, but she had always been sceptical of those rumors. And now, she had actual proof.

"... Help you?" She managed to catch the tail end of the sentence, having been lost in her thoughts. His quietness certainly didn't help matters any.

"I didn't quite catch that." She replied somewhat bashfully. Hermione suppressed the urge to fidget as the old man fixed her with a piercing gaze.

"Lost in thought, eh?" He chuckled softly. "Not to worry, I know all about that." He winked at her and Hermione felt a small smile tug at her lips at his casual attitude. "Now, how may I help you?"

"I require a wand." She spoke and hesitated slightly.

"Well," The old man said jovially. "You have certainly come to the right place."

"Unfortunately, I do not have any means to purchase the wand." She continued, her voice betraying nothing.

The white haired elder slowly lost his smile. "That is a rather unfortunate circumstance. But I can certainly write up a contract…"

Hermione shook her head. "No. For reasons I cannot divulge to you, I am unable to reveal my identity."

Ollivander was openly frowning now. "I'm afraid there is very little I can do for you. While I understand how important it is to have a working wand for a wizard, I cannot afford to tarnish my well-earned reputation."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. "I am willing to accept a private contract with a higher interest rate." She knew what his answer was even before he opened his mouth.

"I'm afraid," He said slowly, "I simply cannot do something like this. This is not Knockturn Alley, where such things can be negotiated. I cannot sell a wand to someone _on the side_. Such a thing violates the very principles this shop was created to uphold." His voice was cool now, and Hermione could feel her chances of convincing him evaporate like the morning dew under the sun's heat.

"Please…" She was cut off as he raised a hand.

"I must insist. Either you reveal who you are and show a legal certification that proves you are who you say you are or leave my shop. I do not know why you seek to protect your identity, but I cannot trust your words alone. My wands are registered with the ministry, and I will not sell to anyone who does not have a legal identification." He looked at her distrustfully, and Hermione felt her heart sink.

She had been hoping to avoid such an outcome, but she had been too naive in thinking that the wandmaker would be sympathetic to her plight. Especially when she could not even reveal herself to him. So diplomacy had failed, what was left now? She seriously considered threatening him, and although her wandless magic was inefficient and nearly useless in terms of combat, she could still bluff with them.

"Are you certain you will not reconsider?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. "I am willing to negotiate any interest rate."

The old man narrowed his eyes. "You will not find me so foolish. I do not care for money, such things are nothing compared to the hard earned reputation that my family cultivated throughout the years."

"Then I will take a wand by force." She hissed out, and manifested her magical aura.

For wizards and witches, seventeen was the majority age where their magical cores matured. This meant they would be able to manifest them in order to aid them in combat. The stronger the aura, the more spells it could automatically shield and a fully manifested aura could also further enhance spells cast. There was no leakage, unlike the still growing core of a wizard or witch before their majority age. Although there were no official ranks, it was still recognized that certain wizards and witches had more powerful cores. Some auras were so powerful they took on secondary traits. There was a reason Voldemort was referred to as a Dark Lord. His aura was menacing and poisonous, corrupting all that it touched and infecting them with decay and death. Dumbledore's aura by contrast purified and eroded matter like rust on metal. Both were destructive, but in different ways. Harry's aura slowed things around him, allowing him to be a very powerful duelist with an insane reaction speed. Hermione's aura burned like fire, devouring everything around her and granting her a slight affinity to any spell linked to the element of fire.

Ollivander's eyes widened in fear and surprise as he felt the heat and power explode from the diminutive frame of the cloaked stranger with the suddenness of a lightning bolt.

"I will ask one last time." She raised her hand and the heat noticeably increased a degree. The very air was becoming super heated and the nearby paper began to smolder every so slightly. "Will you sell me a wand?" Hermione's voice was sharp and her question was more a command than anything.

The old man took a step back, fear evident in his eyes as he felt his wards beginning to strain under the sheer weight and magnitude of the aura being manifested in front of him. He had only ever felt such overbearing power twice in his long life, once by a necromancer whom he had the misfortune of crossing in his early travels abroad and the second when he had witnessed the finals between Albus Dumbledore and Filius Flitwick, two of the greatest duelists he had ever had the privilege to see.

"I…" He gulped as he choked on the hot air that rushed into his lungs. "I will not." He knew he was effectively signing his death contract, but he could not jeopardize the work of his family line. Had he been younger, perhaps he would have folded, but his son would soon succeed him and there was no way he would leave a tainted legacy behind. Death over shame. He closed his eyes.

Hermione felt her last hope dwindle away and she bowed her head. "So be it." She retracted her aura and walked over to the entrance. "I'm sorry." And she left, feeling tears of anger, shame and disappointment well in her eyes.

Ollivander slid, his legs too wobbly to support his weight and he sat on the soft carpet of his shop and pondered what had just happened. "_Ha_. _Ha_." He laughed the laugh of a man who had just escaped a close shave with death, disbelief tinged with hysteria. Slowly, he clambered to his feet and walked over to his fire place. Out of respect for her mercy, he would not report the incident to the MoM. That much at least he could afford, but just in case she was a rising Dark Lord, he would warn his friends and see what counter measures would be put in place. The wizarding world could ill afford another Dark Lord and if her aura had been any indication of her strength, she was a threat of the highest degree.

Outside, a few blocks away in a side alley that led to a dead end, Hermione leaned against the wall. Apparently, her body could not handle that amount of energy discharge and she was now suffering the recoil effects of unleashing a fully matured aura with an immature core. It was an interesting paradox, seeing how she possessed both. A byproduct of her time travel, and it was this sheer fluke that saved her from imploding right there in Ollivander's shop. Still, the recoil made her feel like she had just ran a marathon. There were stars at the edges of her vision, and her head throbbed under the assault of a migraine the sort you get after a night of heavy drinking. Her muscles were tender and sore, and her extremities felt numb and tingly.

"That was very silly of me," She gasped out as she slid down the wall and passed out.

When she came to, she felt considerably better. Her muscles no longer ached and her headache was completely gone. There were still some tender spots and she could not breathe too deeply for fear of pain, which most likely meant her lungs had been slightly burned by her aura. The sun had also set by now, and the evening sky was a beautiful shade of ultramarine dotted with the bright white of stars. The half moon hung across the sky, clear and brilliant and pale, illuminating the world below with her stark white light. Sighing, Hermione pushed herself to her feet. Never before had she been so acutely aware of just how alone she was. No friends. Not a single person alive or dead in this world who could help her. She had nothing to turn to, and no haven to flee to. Her chest ached, and she knew it wasn't from physical pain, but despite her bravado at claiming she needed no one, she knew very well it was a lie. Nobody could survive alone, and remain sane.

How had things come to this? Just a few days ago, everything was going right. For once she looked forward to the future and what it would bring. It wasn't perfect, but compared to where she was now it seemed like heaven. She chuckled bitterly at her weakness. Hermione knew exactly whose fault it was, Harry had known the moment he laid eyes on the wand that it was trouble. But her curiosity and desire to unravel the nature of things overwhelmed her common sense. She thought she was so smart, and when the truth had outed itself, it had taken her future with it. After an indeterminate amount of time, she cleared her mind of thoughts. Grief and pain, loss and despair, she let it all go. _Enough self-pity. Now is not the time to give up, as long as the wand exists, you can still get home. _

"One last option." She knew it was a bad idea, but in her current situation, there was little she could do. She was simply going to have to risk it. Despite the lack of lighting, she navigated through the streets of Diagon Alley nearly perfectly. She had bled and fought in the shattered ruins so many times that it was nigh impossible for her to get lost. Eventually, she descended into the lower levels of the alley and the amount of wizards and witches noticeably decreased. This was the entrance to Knockturn Alley, the other side of the coin. It was also the only other place she could acquire a wand. But first, she needed to get information, and for that she needed money. She entered the pawnshop nearby and showed him the bracelet Alan had given her.

"Hm…" He turned it over in his hand and nodded to himself. "Five sickles."

Hermione said nothing and waited. Eventually, the man grimaced and shrugged. "Fine, five sickles and 20 knuts."

"I want seven sickles even and a contract that will allow me to buy it back within a week from now." Hermione made sure to make her voice sound cool and emotionless, giving away absolutely nothing.

The pawnshop owner was a short stubby man, scarred and tough looking with a crooked gait. Clearly he had been in plenty of fights and had received the short end of the stick multiple times. He looked at the charm, then at her cloaked figure and grunted. "_Six_ sickles. No more than that. And I'll give you the contract for this thing at fifteen percent for the week."

Hermione shook her head. "Seven percent flat interest rate. four day period, six sickles."

"Deal," His grin was a tad too sharp and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion he did not intend to return the bracelet.

"If I come back and find that you have misplaced this item," Hermione said calmly and emotionlessly, "I will rip you limb from limb until you beg me for a swift death." Her eyes shone through the dark of her cloak and she let a tiny tendril of her aura flicker around her. The temperature jumped a degree instantly. The slight widening of his pupils told her it had gotten through to him.

"Ya threatening me?" He barked out roughly, but there was a tiny wobble in the tone of his voice and Hermione smiled viciously. He might not be able to see her, but he would be able to feel it.

"No," she purred out softly. "That is a _promise_." He shivered visibly and she slowly raised her hand from under her cloak. "Do we have a deal?"

The slender limb contrasted heavily with her weight of presence, but the balding man was thoroughly convinced she was not someone he wanted to trifle with. "Aye, we have a deal."

The key to brute force negotiation, was to never utter more than one threat. Too often people tried to reinforce their threats by pressing or reminding the issue, but that was actually counterproductive. The right amount of pressure applied once properly was sufficient. So Hermione said nothing else, only looking over the contract and pointing out places where she wanted the wording to be changed and when it was written to her satisfaction, she took the paper and the money and left. Not a single reminder of her threat, it was almost as if it had never happened. But the shop owner breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung closed and he carefully tucked the bracelet away. It was imperative in his line of business to identify whether a person fit the profile of a mark before pulling a scam off, and his senses were telling him very vocally that she was not worth the risk. He would take his free money when the time came.

Hermione slid into seedy bar, having bribed the guard outside with five knuts when he asked her to lower her hood to check her age. She really had to thank Harry for showing her how to illuminate her eyes with her aura. It looked impressive and worked extremely well as an intimidation tactic. The barman approached her, and raised an eyebrow in question. People tended to talk very little around here, as loose lips were the sure way to sink any network.

"I am looking for a very special mead." Hermione spoke in a soft and low tone. She slid a full sickle across the wooden counter as the barman leaned in, his interest peaked by the silver coin. "I'm looking for a loan shark. Preferably someone reputable who is willing to cut some corners." The man nodded and took her sickle and left. Hermione waited patiently, eventually the barman came back with a mug full of mead with a napkin tucked underneath. He nodded to her and left. She discreetly sipped her drink, grimacing at the sugary aftertaste mixed with the tang of alcohol. On her napkin, written in a loopy script were two names. "Locke's Bakery." And below it, "Mr. Santoro." She smiled beneath her hood and set the drink down. It seemed the seedy underworld still responded the same to bribery, something that had not changed over the years. If anything, it was more discreet and easier in the 40s compared to her time. As she left the bar, Hermione gave the bartender a small nod, the movement so slight under the hood that it was barely a twitch. Somehow he caught sight of it and dipped his head in response.

The bakery was located a little ways from the main Knockturn Alley roads and looked for all purposes exactly like a bakery store. However, the moment she walked in Hermione knew she was in the right place. No bakery would need this many people working in it, and there were at least four people visible from the entrance, each working at a station. They seemed engrossed by their work, but as she walked in, she noticed they all focused on her discreetly. Two women, wearing aprons watched her out of the corner of their eyes, following her every movement. An elder man, looking to be around his thirties, dressed in a chef's clothes looked to be dozing beside the oven, but Hermione noticed that one of his eyes was lidded and his breathing wasn't perfectly even. The last of the workers was a young man, barely out of his teens, still long limbed and gangly with short black hair and thin features. His nose had clearly been broken at least once. He was the one who looked at her and twitched when he took in her hooded cloak, and she smirked to herself. He was a greenhorn still. Perfect. She walked over to him her gait smooth and controlled, a dueler's prowl.

"I would like to speak with Mr. Santoro." She said it in enthusiastically, her voice and her height giving away she was only in her teens. The young man visibly scoffed and shook his head.

"Ain't nobody here named Mr. Santoro. I think you have the wrong place, little girl." He dismissed her and turned to his pastry station, but before he could turn away completely, Hermione spoke up again. "Oh but I must simply see Mr. Santoro!"

The teen rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck outta here, girl. I told you there ain't a Mr. Santoro here."

"I'm afraid I must… _insist on meeting Mr. Santoro_." She let her aura loose toward the end of her sentence and startled, the teen reacted instinctively and shot a bright white cutter at her. She sidestepped it easily and the spell kissed the hem of the robe as it grazed past her. "My, what an interesting choice of spell." Her voice dripped condescension and mockery, a well practiced drawl from all the times she had bantered with Bellatrix Black in the midst of their duels. Her eyes glowed a faint purple under her hood and the teen paled before her furious aura. The next time she spoke, her voice was like ice. "_Perhaps I should show you what a true bisection looks like._"

At this point the two witches had dropped all pretenses of baking and raised their wands at her. Before things could escalate, the chef stood in a swift motion and help out his hand.

"Stop." His voice carried the calm weight of authority and the three workers stilled from habit. "You've made your point. Follow me."

He walked over to counter and lifted a panel. Hermione slowly glided across, making sure her pace was even and unaffected. Beneath the hood, her heart pounded a staccato beat of excitement and desire. How long ago was it since her first brush with death when the mountain troll had somehow stumbled into the girl's lavatory? The thrill and rush of adrenalin through her system making her synapses snap to attention. She loved the way the world began to sharpen, to take on edge and her well honed magic responded to her will like a long forgotten skill.

Sometime ago when the war escalated beyond the small skirmishes between the order and the Dark Lord's followers, she had lost her inhibition against fighting and killing and began to appreciate the art of dueling. Not the slow, restricted duels between wizards and witches in a dueling competition where the goal was to showcase your expertise and skill, she was talking about the no holds barred death matches where a single mistake cost you your life. On a battlefield where you could die to anything, even a stray spell cast by an unblooded first year. Where any and all spells were used, from common household charms to the darkest of curses.

Even without a wand in her hands, Hermione's magic surged and danced beneath her skin like playful children, filling her with the sensation of an itch, but one she could not scratch. As she weaved around the counter, her face caught sight of the teenager who had sent the bisection hex and she bared her teeth at him in a ferocious smile. While he could not see her, he could feel the intent as clear as day. It was further exacerbated by her aura's restlessness. The black haired youth shivered and squirmed, his wand still trained on her. The hand trembled ever so slightly. Hermione felt a giggle well inside her. Here she was, without a wand at hand and wandering into the den of one of the most notorious loan shark in all of Knockturn Alley and she was intending to negotiate everything and everyone of a bluff. She turned away, and breathed deeply to rid herself of the intense rush of sensations. Her mind cleared and she followed the chef into the kitchen.

There was a small set of stairs that led them up to a very cozy living room. An elegant door barred the way inside and the chef turned to her, his eyes serious. "In order to enter, you must swear a minor oath of non-aggression."

It was standard procedure, since you could not ask a wizard or witch to relinquish their wands, a minor oath on non-aggression would prevent any assassins, mind wiped or not, from entering. The difference between minor and major oaths was the use of one's name. A minor oath did not require such and would only cause temporary pain and weakness should the oath be broken. A major oath bound you to your name and could cause anything from permanent paralysis to the loss of your magic depending on the stakes.

Hermione hesitated. While she could give the oath and pretend it bound her, it would avail her more if she gave the truth. "Such an oath would be meaningless to me." She held a hand when the man stiffened and went for his wand.

"Peace. I merely state the truth. No minor oath could ever bind me, my magic would simply snap it the moment I tried." It was a side-effect from having such a potent aura. Nothing short of a major oath could bind her and even then there were some that would fail.

"I see you do not believe me. Very well, let me demonstrate. _I swear by the six that I mean no harm to anyone within this establishment._" The ambient magic around her began to stir and swirl around her, excited by her words of intent.

"_By the six, I accept this oath by as guardian of this establishment._" The chef declared in a low stern tone.

The magic tried to bind her, but Hermione's magic snapped back. _**Mine.**_ The ambient magic dissipated, rebuffed by her potent will. Only a major oath using her own magic as contract could bind her. "Will you accept my entry even without a binding oath? I did not come seeking harm on anyone, I assure you. I have no need for deception to mask my intentions." Her voice was calm and soft, but the chef had already gone for his wand at her words.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you entry, Madam." His eyes narrowed and a slow bead of sweat trickled the side of his face. His magic told him that he was outclassed, by a considerable amount and for the first time he began to regret bringing her up here. Still, decorum was decorum and he would not strike first unless she made the first move.

Before Hermione could speak, the door clicked open. A young boy, no older than thirteen smiled disarmingly at the two of them. His blond hair was immaculate and his boyish features were fashioned into a cute smile that would have lowered anyone's guard. His clothes were smooth and wrinkle-free, clearly made from excellent material and his well-polished shoes glistened under the dim light of a nearby lamp. Had it not been his eyes that gleamed like two ruby crystals, he would have seemed exactly like any other rich pre-teen child.

"Now, now. There's no need for violence, Stuart." The chef straightened and bowed his head. "As you wish, Mr. Santoro."

"Come in, come in." The blond waved at Hermione. His voice was light and cheerful, a child's carefree lilt. Hermione gave a wry smile beneath her hood. How interesting.

"Shall I…?" The blond cut him off with a shake of his head. "No. Relax, it is as the lady claimed. We would have known already if she wanted to assassinate me. Besides, we've already had our monthly quota of assassins. If she truly belonged to one of my enemies who wanted me dead," here the child gave her an exaggerated look over and grinned. "I think I would not be long for the world."

"You flatter me." Hermione replied dryly, but her voice carried an undertone of amusement.

"Hmph. Modest too." He snorted. It looked very out of place coming from a child and almost made her chuckle. "Come, let us talk further inside." He turned around and skipped through the doors. Hermione walked past the still bowing Stuart and through the beautifully crafted door. This close, she could see the art on the wooden panels depicted a tree, with an enlarged apple carved on one of the many branches of the tree. Beneath the trunk of the tree a serpent slithered, and she could see two tiny rubies in place of its eyes.

The door closed behind her as Hermione cast her eyes over the room. Two bookshelves lined either side of the door, and rows upon rows of books adorned them. Her eyes caught several titles, and she recognized a few of them from the library at Hogwarts. Rare and exotic titles in different languages, latin among them also peaked her interest. Mr. Santoro climbed onto a raised chair behind an elegant and wide wooden desk. A ink stand sat on the left, a fancy eagle plume quill stuck into it, and a dozen or so parchment rolls lined the right side.

"So." The child grinned at her mischievously. "What do you think?" Behind him, the wall curved slightly outward, but Hermione barely noticed it as she caught sight of the incredible painting. It was magnificent, depicting a war between angels and demons. The angels were adorned with white wings and golden halos and came in from the top left side of the wall. They wielded swords or all assortments and their faces were as regal as any proud nobility. In direct opposition, demons painted with crimson bearing black horns that writhed and twisted in curls burst from the lower right. The colors contrasted against each other and created a brilliant dichotomy. The child sat exactly in the middle of the two factions and the lighting of the room further enhanced his position, and gave him twin shadows that stretched to both sides of the painting.

"Very intimidating." Hermione was suitably impressed, but tried to hide it behind a monotone. _Even though I know he is doing it on purpose, I can't help but be slightly intimidated. I can't believe I thought I could bluff him… no… I can't let doubt get a foothold here. _She took a deep breath and stilled her thoughts. _Focus. This is a business exchange, get the money, try to get a good interest rate and get out. Once I get my wand, everything will work out. _

"Excellent." His grin widened and he folded both hands together before him. "I must admit I was most curious when I heard from some _acquaintances _that there was a young woman looking for me in quite a few notorious bars. So I wasn't entirely surprised when you paid me a visit." He fidgeted, exactly as a child would and sat back, putting his hands behind his head. "I admit, you were not what I expected." _Sixteen? Seventeen? Her voice sounds like she is barely out of her teens. She must be using a false voice, my wards strip away disguises using potions and runes, so she must be using muggle technology. I can think of no other way, but that is ingenious by itself. So few wizards expect muggle technology. _He smirked to himself internally. _Unfortunately for her, I'm not one of them._

"So." Hermione parroted his earlier gleeful tone. "What do you think?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, his crimson eyes glittering in amusement. "Very intimidating." He drawled out in a high pitched girly voice.

"Hmph."

He giggled at her, and for a second Hermione almost forgot who it was before her. Then his eyes opened and twin pools of ruby stared back, and Hermione raised her guard again. "Now," He murmured softly, ancient eyes piercing through the veil of darkness that hid her identity with an ease that made her more than a little nervous. "What brings a witch of your caliber to my humble abode?"

Hermione slowly raised her hands and lowered the hood of her cloak, her brown hair falling in loose coils around her face which settled in an expression of neutral passivity. She lowered her head while taking the hood off so she missed his stunned expression. By the time she looked up, he looked as impassive as before.

"It is truly a shame to hide such beauty like yours beneath a veil of darkness." _Impossible. She can't be more than fifteen. Unbelievable. _He hid his shock, veiling it with a complement to distract her. _I've been in this line of work for a very long time now. I pride myself on being an excellent judge of character. But this is something that goes beyond anything I have experienced before. It can't be a mere accident, my AMED detector was recently acquired, the odds of it malfunctioning today of all days is a statistical impossibility. Still, it doesn't hurt to check if she really can manifest her aura._

Her lips twitched in amusement, but otherwise gave nothing away. "I'm here to request a loan of money."

"Oh?" A puzzled look came over his face. He hesitated before furrowing his brows in confusion. "I would not have thought you in financial distress, given your immense _skill_." He said the last delicately, injecting enough disdain to raise her ire. He even raised an eyebrow, taunting her subtly. Just enough to annoy her, but not enough for her to construe a rejection.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and her aura flared around her protectively. "Is that a no?" She asked quietly, uncertain and more than a little worried. _If things go wrong, I'm not sure I will be able to make it out unscathed… I really hope that doesn't happen..._

"No, not at all." He waved his hands to placate her. "I merely profess to be somewhat surprised, it is exceedingly rare to find a wizard or witch of your caliber in need of money. Especially at your tender age, one would think your guardians would be more than happy to support you?" He smiled softly, reassuring her she misunderstood, but internally he was swearing up a storm. _Well, that confirms it. Her aura was nearly tangible and I could see her eyes light up from the sheer intensity. I know four wizards and one witch capable of doing such thing. Nearly all of them are older than two centuries, and I know they would not try to prank me like this. Who is she? Who is her guardian? What I would give to know their identity. Out of all the people I know, only a handful could keep such talent hidden away. I have a hunch I may know who her guardians are. But it does raise the question why she is here, and for money no less, it doesn't add up. Besides, _he mused softly, tapping his fingers against his rosewood table, _her aura is different from theirs. _He sniffed discretely, and his enhanced senses noted the subtle temperature change. _Heat, fire and ash. A very unique blend, certainly not one of the many I know. _He felt a bubble of excitement well inside his stomach. This. Was. So. Interesting. Quickly, he composed himself and gazed at the girl in front of him. He had to resist the urge to rub his hands in glee, _I do so love a good puzzle._

Hermione blushed at her misunderstanding and nervously folded her hands together in front of her. She tried to hide her embarrassment, but from his knowing grin she knew she wasn't doing a very good job of it. _Well, I might not be very good at this negotiating tactic, but I can't give in now. At least I'm doing better than Ron and Harry. _She resisted the urge to giggle at the thought.

"Very well, how much are we talking about?" He asked at last when the moment faded and both of them regained their composure. _It must be a particularly large sum of money owed to a very powerful party if they are capable of putting such pressure on someone as powerful as her. And to come to me instead of another noble family, do I dare risk the ire of her enemies? And if my assumption is correct, whoever the mysterious party is they do not fear her guardians either. Do they have a hostage of sorts? Or am I sticking my nose in something much much larger? I am no coward, but even I am leery of poking such a foe. '__Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.'_He mused to himself, tapping the table absentmindedly. _So much intrigue and questions swirl around her. What I would give to unravel this mystery. _He looked at her as she chewed her lips in thought. _She is so young, this is incredibly baffling. I..._

Meanwhile, Hermione tried to puzzle how much she wanted loaned to her. _How much should I ask for? Twenty galleons would be enough to afford a custom crafted wand and tide me over for at least a week, and I should be able to make that amount easily once I obtain my wand. But he might not be willing to loan out so little. Thirty galleons? I know an average wizard earns roughly three galleons a month… argh, I've never had to deal with this before. _She looked at the money lender, but he too seemed distracted by something and was deep in thought. _I'll double it and hope it's not too much. _"Forty galleons." She said decisively. _That should be more than enough to cover my expenses for a long while, and I can definitely pay…_

She was cut off as the child vampire abruptly burst into laughter. Her heart skipped a beat and for a second she thought she had asked for too much. But then she realized his laughter was not filled with scorn or mockery, but pure mirth. She felt awkward and embarrassed as the loan shark laughed so hard he was almost crying. As the moment stretched on, she felt a surge of anger coil inside her. Was he mocking her after all?

The blond vampire shook his hand as he felt her aura spike in agitation, but he was unable to speak for fear of bursting into laughter again. He looked at his bookshelf, determined not to look at her expression of complete confusion which he knew would make him laugh again. "Forty galleons. Are you sure that is all you need?" He managed to choke out at last. _That's the third time I've had my preconceptions shattered. I think… I don't know what to think… Who is she?_

"Yes." Hermione answered stiffly, still wary and confused. The young child seemed disinterested now, looking around the room while he tapped his fingers against the table. Had she asked for too little? But forty galleons was the equivalent of a small fortune, and not something most people could barter away on a whim. "Unless you are willing to loan me fifty?" She added hesitantly, not sure what she was going anymore.

By now, after a studious examination of everything in the room that was not the impossible puzzle sitting in front of him, he had regained his composure. He turned to look at her, shoving the desire to laugh and laugh until he could laugh no more into a small corner of his mind. His stomach twinged at the effort, but he bore through it with an iron will. Centuries worth of carefully honed control over his emotions locked down his shock and amazement and shuffled them away for later. _Is it possible that she is playing me? For whatever reason, I cannot fathom. But forty galleons? No. I can detect no lies from her and even were it the case she has fooled my wards with an impregnable disguise, I fail to see what she is getting out of this. If she truly intended to rob me… No… Forty galleons would not be the way. In fact, the sheer absurdity of the situation leads me to believe she is genuinely requesting that little. After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. _

"Allow me to offer a counter-proposal." He smiled enigmatically, and Hermione fought down the urge to fidget at his almost predatory gaze. Those blood red eyes seemed to pierce through her flimsy veil of disguise almost as easily as a knife through butter. _Calm down Hermione. It's impossible that he knows you don't have a wand. Relax, breathe, don't panic. Clearly you should have just said fifty from the start. Forty was too little. At least he seems interested now. _

"However, before I do, I would like you to answer a question." He paused for a second, and the tension in the room increased by several magnitudes. "I am a cautious person, and I find myself asking why a person of your fortitude would come to me for help. If I agree to lend you the sum of … fifty galleons… I would not be making any enemies out of anyone, now would I?"

Hermione blinked in confusion. _Enemies? What does he mean? Oh. Oh! I see… he fears that someone is extorting me and that his help would somehow embroil him in the feud. _"No. I have no enemies. My desire is purely monetary and I seek only a simple transaction without any strings attached." It was the truth. The blond nodded softly, as if she was confirming something he already suspected. _Somehow, _Hermione thought to herself, _I don't think I could get away with lying to him. Even half-truths are dangerous. He is dangerous. Maybe… Maybe he is just an exception? But then again, perhaps all loan sharks are as deadly as this. Their reputation is well-earned, it seems. _

_I sense she spoke the truth. Besides, if someone were really extorting her for forty galleons, they must be an imbecile of the highest degree. Who would be willing to have her as an enemy for a measly forty galleons? Ridiculous. It's time I did a little digging of my own. But first, the matter of the loan. _He scratched his head and tried to think of a way he could pull this off. _The difficulty is in attracting her attention and arousing her interest. She might not wish for any strings, but I'm afraid I am not going to let her walk out of my life so easily as she walked in. I've lived for over five centuries and I have never seen anyone so confusing and out of place as her. Naive, but powerful. Intelligent, but rash. Confident, but wary. She's a walking paradox and out of all the loan sharks she could have borrowed from, she walked through my door. _He fought the urge to rub his hands together and laugh. Too cliched. _Game on._

"I will write you a letter of patronage lasting until such time as I deem it no longer needed, allowing access to a private fund that should be more than enough to cover any expenses you might incur. You withdraw any amount you wish, provided you do not exceed a total of five hundred galleons. My letter will allow you access from any bank or lender, legitimate or otherwise, on this side of the channel. Such is my reputation." He grinned proudly at her. "Gringotts will also adhere to my request, and should you wish to withdraw the money legally, you will be allowed to."

Hermione was taken aback and wary now. _If something is too good to be true..._ "That is a very generous offer…" He raised a hand to stall any protest.

"I understand your hesitation, but allow me to finish." She closed her mouth. "In exchange, I will request a favor from you." He paused here, noting her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. The room temperature also seemed to have increased several degrees. "You may refuse any request you do not wish to do. I assure you, I have no wish to gain your ire." He gazed at her intensely. "I understand you want a clean and simple contract, but I am afraid I cannot do that."

Hermione thought over his terms, a puzzled look on her face. "I can refuse any request I wish?" He nodded and confirmed. "Any."

"And you will not force the issue?" She asked dryly. "I won't find agents under your employ trying to convince me I should do the request?"

He chuckled at this. "As I said, I have no intention of making you an enemy. In fact, I wish to gain your friendship." His ruby eyes glinted with an emotion she could not identify. "I swear to you, I have no desire to chain you to me in any way whatsoever. The friendship I offer is not one born from a contract nor does it come with any clauses."

He folded his hands and leaned forward, peering at her sharply. "You do not trust me because you do not know me. This is true for both of us. But I would like to get to know you better, and I find myself in a position where we can both get what we want. I understand that you have reservations about people in my line of work," he smiled mischievously. "But I ask only that you take a gamble and bet on me being an exception to the rule." He slowly raised his hand out to her. "If you accept, I will write the letter of patronage. Should you refuse, I will simply lend you the fifty galleons at the standard Gringotts interest rates indefinitely." He finished quietly, hand extended. "Do you accept my proposal?"

Hermione made no move to shake his hand. _I … I wish I could understand why he is doing this. I know I should refuse his proposal, the latter option gives me everything I want and more. Once I pay him back, there would be nothing tying me to him and his organization. But I cannot tell if he is genuinely interested in becoming my friend or if he is intending to manipulate me. Argh… are all money lenders so infuriating? Aren't they supposed to be greedy, manipulative and selfish? Instead, he is charismatic, intelligent and enigmatic. _She closed her eyes and concentrated. _My head tells me no. My heart says yes. My head says my heart doesn't exist and I'm being greedy. No is the right choice. No is the safe choice. No is the wise choice. _

Hermione stood abruptly. The vampire waited patiently, his expression still one of neutral curiosity.

"Yes. I accept." She took his hand and shook it. _This is going to end badly… maybe. _

"Excellent." He purred. "Please call me Ikarus… Miss?"

"Hermione. A pleasure to meet you." She grinned back. _Too late now, what's done is done. _

"The pleasure was all mine."

**So that's a wrap. Please review! **

**Wait. Does reverse psychology work here? **

**DON'T REVIEW! NO. I TAKE IT BACK. **

**Do review. **


	4. Lessons

**A.N. Hi everyone, here's chapter four! Before we begin, I wanted to thank everyone who gave me a review, it was inspiring.**

**Thank you for taking the time to write me a review: trinna and Gloriar1981, also a special thanks to Lity, who sent me a review in Spanish! I had to run it through google translate, but I think I got the gist of it! I will try to get to the main characters as soon as possible, please bear with me. **

_What a cute face he has … _She giggled coyly as he flashed her a grin. Perhaps she should not have drunk so much. But it _tasted _so good… Something long and slender…

"What's that you have there?" She reached out to find a wooden stick, very beautifully crafted and polished, but it was too short to be a cane. For the life of her, she could not imagine why anyone would have such a thing. Entranced by the smooth grain of the wand, and more than slightly tipsy, she completely missed the scowl that passed across her companion's face.

"Nothing that concerns you, wench." He snarled, snatching it back roughly, jostling her in the process.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, but then something flashed and … what was she doing?

"Having a good time?" Someone murmured in her ear. She blinked, a little confused on what she was doing. Maybe she should stop drinking… Oh! Cute and handsome was asking her something…

"... upstairs?" What was that? She shook her head to try and clear the buzz in her head, but it didn't work. _Say yes… say yes… _But she shouldn't… _Just say yes … and everything will be alri-g-h-t… _

"Yes?" She muttered dazedly.

"Excellent!" Her companion hoisted her and started climbing up the stairs with her in his arms. She giggled at the silliness of the situation. "My, what strong arms you have!"

The bartender scratched his head puzzledly. The girl looked to be completely smashed, but he was pretty sure he had only given her water… right? He took her glass and sniffed it. Odorless. Hm. Interesting. Not his business though, he shrugged and turned away. The bloke might have been dodgy as hell wearing a cloak and hood, but he was filthy rich. The bartender grinned at the hundred pound note in his hand and whistled, thinking of all the things he could buy with that amount of money. _Keep the change… _Ha!

**Page Break**

As she strode down the cobblestone path of Diagon Alley, a sudden realization struck her like a thunderbolt out of the blue. The starry sky above her twinkled and shone, almost as if they were mocking her stupidity. The writ of patronage burned in her pocket and she took the scroll of paper out, realizing for the first time what it truly meant. A mixed sensation of awe and disgust warred against each other in equal portions and she felt a surge of annoyance at having been outmaneuvered by the blond child. Still, what he had done was worthy of praise.

By giving her a writ of patronage, he was effectively putting her under his banner of protection. While both of them knew this was merely a business transaction, the outside world would not see it as such. In one swoop, he had affiliated his entire organization with her, all the while placing her in his debt. A win-win for him… how devious. And there was nothing she could do… for the moment. _First round goes to you… Ikarus… but don't get too used to it… _Hermione felt an uncharacteristic grin forming on her face. She loved a challenge, especially when the opponent was good.

Pocketing the letter, she continued on her path to the only other wand shop in Diagon Alley. It was situated in upper Diagon Alley, where all the top-end shops were located. The price tags here were often ludicrously overpriced compared to central Diagon Alley, but the quality was assuredly top notch.

While a wand usually cost anywhere between seven to ten galleons depending on the materials used, here they would cost fifteen at minimum. The brunette gently pushed the outer door open and felt a tripline ward go off. Everything inside the store spoke of wealth, from the luxurious fur carpet to the velvet lined shelves filled with rare materials, and instead of a counter, an elegant desk made from mahogany and ebony, beautifully crafted by hand and not by magic as evidenced from the lack of perfect symmetry in the individual designs, faced her. A door leading to the back opened and a middle aged man with greying hair stepped out to greet her.

"Welcome to Manson's, my name is Charles Stantion. How may I... assist you today?" He was dressed in an impeccable suit and Hermione noted the slight distaste that passed through his face as he caught sight of her attire. While taking her hood off would help speed things up, Hermione did not want to give out her description just yet. Ikarus would not tell anyone, which was why she had revealed herself to him. Unfortunately, she knew he was going to be a pain to work with if she didn't show some sort of credential. Luckily, she had just the right thing to shut him up. She took out the letter and handed it to him.

Ikarus had assured her, _more like boasted … _she thought to herself … _quite the achievement for such a smug little brat… _ that every shop in Diagon Alley recognized his mark, and she could simply use the letter as proof of payment. Hermione's heart skipped a beat when the man frowned after opening the letter, but he very quickly smoothed his expression into one of subservient neutrality.

"I see, I hope Madam did not simply pick this off the side of a street?" His tone was carefully construed to avoid offense.

Hermione snickered softly at his change of behavior. "I am perfectly aware of what I possess. Are you?" She said it as haughtily as she could, but she knew her voice sounded more petulant than anything else. _Blasted fourteen year old body…_

Despite that, he paled and quickly handed the letter back with a bow. "My apologies Madam, I was simply making sure. How may I assist you?"

"Hmmmmmmm…" Hermione stretched the sound, enjoying how he squirmed at the disapproval in her voice. After a moment of silence, she decided to get on with business, and truth be told she was feeling a tad guilty at inflicting such pain on the man, even if it was well-deserved. Just a teeny tiny bit. "I would like a custom wand made."

He nodded sagaciously, and gestured to the desk. "If it pleases Madam, we can draw up the necessary details?"

She sank into the cushy leather chair with an exaggerated bounce and grinned as he winced at her casual disregard for the clearly expensive decor. He drew out a few scrolls and pointed to the prices listed below them. "Here are some of the materials can use to craft your secondary wand…"

Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I'll forgive your ignorance this once. I'm not here to procure a fancy trophy wand to boast to my peers." She tapped her fingers against the desk, smirking again at his wince. "I expect my secondary focus to be on par if not better than my primary in terms of usage. Can you do this?" She projected disdain and disappointment, as if already expecting him to tell her he couldn't do such a thing.

"Ah, I'm so sorry, Madam. Forgive me, most of my clients prefer …" He stammered apologetically.

Hermione waved his explanation off. "I don't care for what the others want. I have heard you make finer wands than Ollivanders… have I heard wrong, _Charles_?"

"No, I mean that is to say, yes I can." Hermione folded her hands and waited for him to finish stuttering. He gulped at her silence, unsure if she was angered or not. "Please wait here while I bring out the materials, Madam. It would be easier if I could perhaps see your primary wand?"

"No." Hermione answered quickly. "I will be able to answer any questions you may have." He looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely shut his mouth and scurried off to bring the materials. _Whew. I hope he doesn't bring that up again._

After a few minutes, he came back with an assortment of boxes and jars in a tray. He laid them carefully on the desk and Hermione nodded in approval as she caught sight of the materials. While he might pander to the rich and their ridiculous requests of exotic and rare wands, he was a master craftsman for sure.

"Um, Madam…" He started, then stopped, trying to think of a way of explaining what he wanted her to do without offending her.

"I know what to do." She said confidently and channeled her aura to her hand before picking up the box holding an assortment of wooden slivers. Well, Hermione technically knew the theory behind how to locate the best components for a foci, but she had never actually done it. And she was beginning to realize that maybe a twenty one year old magic core in a fourteen year old body could cause unforeseen _side effects._ _Too late._

For a second, nothing happened. Charles opened his mouth the say something, but before he could so much as say 'no', the box violently combusted in Hermione's hand. It was so sudden that neither of them could react and by the time they looked down, it was over. The box was gone, along with its contents, and the smell of burnt wood slowly wafted up from Hermione's closed hand. Amazingly, her hand was unharmed despite the sudden flare of flames that had reduced the box to ash. She slowly opened her hand and blackened ash drifted and trickled from her stained hand onto the ebony surface below. As the ash slowly dissipated, a small sliver of wood clattered onto the table, the only one to have survived her aura. It glowed cherry red and crackled slightly, and Hermione knew it would be hot to the touch. Somehow, her hand had stayed cool throughout the entire experience. From her companion's stunned expression, Hermione gathered this was a very rare occurrence.

"So, that's the wood I want for my wand." She said cheerily, pretending that everything was perfectly fine. Charles looked at her, then at the pile of ash on the desk, then at her hand and finally at the still smoldering piece of wood. He gulped and nodded, more than slightly shocked.

"As for the core," Hermione continued, she made to reach for the small jars, but Charles quickly placed the tray out of her reach.

"Perhaps Madam will be willing to let me handle the rest?" He said nervously. Hermione nodded sheepishly, glad that the hood concealed her embarrassment.

"I take it your affinity is with fire?" He asked in a dry tone, knowing the answer but still asking just in case. Hermione nodded and confirmed his suspicions.

"In which case, these are the three primary cores that align with fire. Please project your aura as carefully as you can around them, and not _into_ them." He said sternly, and Hermione squirmed slightly in her seat. So that was what she had done.

Her aura danced around the three jars and slowly pooled around the middle one. The shopkeeper nodded and placed the other two back into his tray. "Phoenix feather. A very rare material, known for its affinity with fire and renewal."

He nodded to her and gathered the rest of the jars onto the tray. He took out his wand, and Hermione tensed ever so slightly. Charles did not notice and cast a quick Scourgify and bowed to her. "It will take half a day for the wand to be made. If you wish, you can come and pick it up tomorrow at noon. Which holster would you like the wand to be placed in?" He gestured to the side of the shop where a row of different holsters hung, gleaming in the soft candlelight.

Hermione walked over and looked them over. Every single one was well crafted and richly adorned. She shrugged and turned back to him. "It doesn't matter to me. Pick one at random."

The streets were still dark when Hermione exited the shop, but she was too giddy to care. In another few hours, she would have her wand. And then… okay… so maybe she wasn't too sure of how to find the Elder wand. At least she would be able to protect herself. Now then, where to stay?

_If I stay in the wizarding world, it would be all too easy to trace and find me. I could purchase a traveling tent … nevermind… it doesn't get invented until 1971. _Hermione sighed and kneaded her forehead. Her hair was also getting a little itchy and she was in desperate need of a bath. _The muggle world it is._ _Besides, no wizard or witch in this era would associate with muggles, so it's a perfect cover. _

She rented a room at a hotel a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron, and bought a warm meal from the local italian restaurant. Once her stomach was sated, she took a long and luxurious shower, feeling the repressed emotions in her gut slowly loosening as the hot water washed away her tension in waves, like the incoming tide smoothing away any vestige of footprints on the sandy beach.

Much later, she laid on her stomach atop the soft mattress and gazed out at the distant stars through the clear window of her room and pondered on what the future would bring. Eventually, lulled by the warmth and tranquility, Hermione drifted blissfully into sleep.

'_Silly little girl… aren't you forgetting something?' Soft whispers all around me as I whirled about trying to see in the darkness. _

'_Aw, poor little child, where are you going?' Who was asking? I wasn't going anywhere… 'Did you really think you could fool yourself?' _

_Someone was pushing me and I stumbled over something hard and rough. I tumbled, but felt no pain. The blindfold disappeared and light pierced through, harsh and bright, like steel lances penetrating my eyelids. 'You can't pretend forever…' _

Hermione groaned and sat up blearily as she yawned. The contents of her dream trickled through the cracks of her consciousness like water and despite her attempts at remembering, the memories danced away from her grasping hands like a dandelion puff drifting in a summer breeze. The sunlight streaming from the window had fallen on her face and awoken her. Hermione stretched her limbs and giggled when her feet caught the sunlight which danced across the sensitive limbs, tickling them and sending a soft rush of pleasure through her body.

She wandered out onto the balcony and was met with an icy wind, wincing at the sudden chill, Hermione channeled her aura around her and warm heat burst around her, melting the ice and snow into water and evaporating them. She stood there in the chilly winter air, protected by a cushion of warm air and gazed into the vast cloudless sky. The sun beamed down at her like an old friend and she opened her arms in greeting. _I'm alive. And I remember my home and my family…_ _Soft red hair, a freckled face and warm smile whispering her name. _Hermione closed her eyes and stood there, embracing the sunlight and her memories.

"Look out world… here I come!" She muttered softly.

A different man was behind the counter this time, his short frame and beady eyes followed her with undisguised suspicion as she entered the store. Emblazoned on his immaculate suit was a golden name tag with 'owner' written upon it in fancy cursive script.

"I'm here for my wand." She informed him unceremoniously as he looked her up and down with an open sneer. Clearly, he thought she was in the wrong place.

"Wait here." He disappeared into the back and she heard some shouting, but no discernable words. She recognized Charles' low tenor and the word, "Mr. Santoro." Shortly thereafter, the squat man waddled out with a greasy smile on his face.

"Sorry Madam," His voice was nasally and Hermione felt herself scowl reflexively. How was it that in less than three minutes she already hated the pudgy man in front of her, despite not knowing anything about him? "Here is your wand."

He held a holster in his hands and laid them across the table and bowed his head to her. Hermione picked it up, and hoped her hand wasn't trembling as hard as her heart was fluttering. She barely heard him as she unclipped the leather holster and withdrew the wand. It was magnificent, the cumaru wood was brown, but there was a curling vine of orange that ran the entire length of the wand, stopping right before the thinning tip. The combination of brown and reddish-orange made the wand look elegant and regal at the same time. The grip was wrapped in smooth leather, and felt extremely comfortable in her soft hands. The leather's adhesiveness was perfect, neither too sticky nor too smooth and she knew she could adjust her grip in combat without any fear of losing the wand. The wood was solid and warm beneath her hands and she could feel her magic flowing through the focus smoothly.

It had been too long since she had last used magic through a functioning wand and she itched to let loose with all she had. Her magic danced across her body and through the wand and back in a never ending loop that tickled her and teased her, begging to be released upon the world.

A most annoying voice broke her out of her reverie and Hermione opened her eyes to see the short bald shop keeper holding his hand out.

"Pardon?" She asked out of habit.

"That'll be nineteen galleons… Miss." He said stiffly, peering at her shrewdly as if expecting her to run. Hermione felt a sudden rush of anger and she had to hold back her aura which nearly burst out around her at her spike of emotion. _Control yourself Hermione… you're not a teenager, woman! _Unless the holster cost a whole three galleons, then she was being overcharged by a considerable amount. She pulled out the letter from her inside pocket, noting the man's eyes greedily following the paper.

The wand was certainly worth a fair bit, especially given her situation. However, she knew perfectly well that seventeen galleons was more than enough for both holster and wand. The price tags she had seen yesterday on some of the trophy wands in the display cases were cheaper than seventeen galleons. And she knew that while her wand was expensive given its custom made status, it wasn't that expensive. He was clearly trying to rip her off. However, since it wasn't her money, he was actually fleecing Ikarus albeit indirectly. Normally she would not care, but if rumor spread that someone was carrying around a letter like this and they were dumb enough to get swindled while purchasing a measly secondary wand, then it would spell trouble for her in the long run. Thus, she had to protect her reputation, and by proxy, that of Ikarus'. Hermione twitch in annoyance. She really should have just taken the fifty galleons.

"Nineteen… you say?" She murmured softly, her voice like velvet covered steel. "Are you certain of that?"

He fidgeted a little, eyeing the note, then her, before nodding vigorously. "Nineteen, yes."

She made as if to hand the letter, then stopped just out of his reach. His grabby hands faltered and he looked at her nervously. "You wouldn't be trying to overcharge me? Now, would you?" She purred, tapping the wand against the table.

A fraction of her aura brushed the air between them and her eyes beneath the hood glowed as the surrounding temperature rose. Her magic raced through her gleefully, ecstasy at finally having a wand making her control slip ever so slightly. The shop owner gulped, knowing the jig was up. "Perhaps, it was just a simple mistake on your part…" She paused before continuing. "I think you meant to say sixteen galleons."

His eyes bulged for a second and he gaped at her. "Six… sixteen?" He whimpered in disbelief.

"Yes…" She hissed out, malice dripping from her voice. "Sixteen." He gulped and nodded hastily. "Uh, right. Sixteen galleons, Ma'am."

"Excellent." She handed him the paper and fixed him with a glare. "If I find out you went behind my back and charged me more than sixteen anyways…"

She waved her wand and concentrated her will. This was a very complex spell and ill suited for the quick pace of a duel, but very useful in certain circumstances. A small ball of pure plasma blinked into existence before the two of them. The very air around it distorted from the sheer heat and Hermione quickly trapped it in a bubble of stasis to prevent any damage. She only wanted to send a message after all, not burn the place down.

The shop owner felt the heat even through the stasis field and felt sweat trickle down the side of his forehead. The orange and purple supercharged plasma contorted and danced in the air as Hermione reached out with a hand and held it as if she would a ball. That he did not know what it was only served to frighten him even more.

"Isn't this amazing?" She giggled obnoxiously, pitching her voice purposely high. She bounced it in her hand and watched as the shop owner followed the ball of plasma's movement as a dog would a bone, except with a large amount of fear. A very large amount, as evidenced by his sweating forehead. Which might have been due to the rising ambient temperature in the shop. Hermione grinned under her hood and pretended to fumble a throw. "Oops." She said coquettishly and let the plasma globe slip out of her hand.

The shop owner squealed and threw himself away from the falling mass of orange plasma and she chuckled in amusement. "Oh silly me…" She halted the globe inches from the ground levitated the orb back into her hand. She brought it closer to her hood and concentrated. Then she threw it into the air and snapped her fingers while weaving her wand through a complex negation spell. Bringing fire into existence was easy for her, canceling it on the other hand took a lot more precision. The ball of plasma winked out of existence as if it had never existed. If the room temperature had not noticeably increased by several degrees, one would never have suspected that anything out of the ordinary had just happened.

"Please…" He muttered faintly at her. Hermione lowered her wand and handed over the letter in her hand. He scrambled to pull out a contract from a drawer, fumbling in his haste and almost knocking over the inkwell in the process. Hermione's finely honed reflexes kicked in and she caught the glass bottle before the ink could spill and the owner muttered a hasty thanks. "On further thought," he said in a faint voice as he penned the promissory note, "I am willing to include the holster for free without any additional charge. I hope madam will think well of our services and continue to offer her patronage." He bowed as Hermione signed the note requesting permission for fifteen galleons and took back the writ.

"Consider it done. Give my regards to Charles, his work was brilliant." And she left without another word, leaving the squat man still bowing behind her.

She passed by Gringotts and withdrew a purse of fifty galleons, and shed her disguise. Now that she could use the galleons instead of the letter, she would be able to forgo her cloak. As long as she didn't draw attention to herself, she was fairly confident no one would think twice about a young girl purchasing supplies for herself in Diagon Alley. After getting frustrated at the lack of combat-friendly clothes, Hermione abandoned her search for loose fitting clothes in Central Diagon Alley and headed for the custom clothes stores near Upper Diagon Alley. She cast a small glamor charm that altered a few of her features, and entered the establishment boldly and confidently, whereupon she ordered several sets of clothes with designs that baffled the attendants, but who were smart enough to keep their tongues in check.

As she exited the store with several bags full of clothes, her purse a dozen galleons lighter, Hermione gave a sigh of relief. Despite her friends insistence that shopping was one of the funnest things you could do, Hermione loathed having to pick between different brands and designs. To her, the time wasted on picking between two near identical things could be put to much better use in spellweaving. Just thinking of her experiments made her perk up, then she realized she was stuck in the past precisely because she had toyed with something she really should not have. Depressed again, Hermione wandered back to the hotel where she was staying and entered her room. Now that she had a wand, it was about time she found a permanent base of operations, and while the hotel was lovely, it did not suit her needs. She needed it to be isolated, which would allow her to make her plans and practice her magic without any detection.

_Well, _She mused to herself as she drew several wards around her room. _I can make do with this for now. _She took out her wand and grinned as she felt her magic hum in anticipation. After spending a day with her newly acquired wand, Hermione was beginning to realize how amazing it was to have a body whose magic was still growing while possessing a fully mature core. It was as if her magic had gained a slight sentience. It was like having a temperamental puppy who loved her… disobedient at times, but utterly adorable. Her magical sensitivity was off the charts, and she wondered if it applied to spells cast by other people. If so, it would offer her an unparalleled advantage in a duel. She would be able to identify their spell without the use of legilimency, a duelist's wet dream.

_Anti-tracking, anti-apparition, anti-thermal and anti-observation. Set up a tripline ward based on ill-intent, set the flower vase as the ward anchor and put a firestorm trap beneath the entrance. Perfect. _She lowered her wand, feeling her magic purr against her like a cat and grinned. _To business. The Elder wand… _

She plopped down on the bed and raised her wand between both hands. It was truly a magnificent work of art. Shaking her head, she focused. Right now, she was stuck in a bit of a quandary, if Grindelwald didn't have the Elder wand and she forced things to deviate from the original timeline, there would be no concrete way for her to locate it. So the best choice, as much as she loathed it, was to wait for Grindelwald to gain the wand and make his revolution, and since she knew he would have the wand for sure in 45', she could be reasonably sure he would make his move within the next two years.

_I wonder if Albus was still in contact with Gellert … even after the incident involving Ariana. They were the best of friends after all… And I know he was instrumental in locating and defeating Gellert. My best move would be to get close to him, as close as I can without raising suspicion and convincing him to let me help him deal with Gellert. _Hermione twirled her wand around her hand and frowned. _The Albus I knew was so much older and more experienced. I admit, I am extremely intrigued in finding out what he was like in his youth. _

A sudden revelation struck her like a bolt of lightning and she shivered at the sudden chill the thought brought into her… _Wasn't Voldemort fifty years younger than Albus? Does that mean… _She did a rough calculation in her head. Albus was born in 1881, so he was about sixty-one, sixty-two years old. Voldemort would be roughly twelve. _Does that mean he is attending Hogwarts as a first or second year, right now?_ She flopped back onto the bed. _Well, even if I wanted to do something about it … and I kind of do… I want to rip his head off and tear him piecemeal by piecemeal… it would be meaningless. I aim to destroy this timeline, after all. _She shivered at the thought. _Am I… am I as bad as Ignotus if I do this? No. No. I am preserving things the way they were. I'm not… I'm not like him at all. I cannot hesitate on this, I must succeed in restoring things the way they are, even if they were not ideal. _She gritted her teeth and steeled her heart. _I will not falter. _Unbeknownst to Hermione, her magic had reacted instinctively and flared around her in a protective cocoon. The air began to superheat and the moisture in the air evaporated as the temperature rose steadily. _I will not hesitate. _

_I will find Gellert Grindelwald, through Albus if I must, and I will take the Elder wand by force. _"And I will set things right. The way they should be." She opened her eyes and gasped. Her aura had set the bed ablaze. Groaning, she doused the flames and repaired the bed. "Great… now my hair is on fritz." She scowled and tried to pat her hair down, but the stubborn strands refused to listen and she gave up after a few more fruitless attempts at brushing the bushy mess. _If only I had bothered learning cosmetic charms, _she moaned to herself, falling back onto the soft bed.

**Page Break**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked at the chessboard before him and stroked his white beard, attempting to appear sage and deep. The look was ruined by his pink flamboyant pajamas with yellow duckies that gave the occasional quack. It was further compounded when he replied to the quacks as if he could understand them.

"Indeed. I find it curious too that the knight should resemble a horse, when clearly its namesake refers more to the rider than the ridden." He slowly stood and walked over the board.

"A very powerful move, Gellert. But you always assume if you attack, I must either defend or flee. Indeed, your knight menaces my forces on that side of the board and threatens the capture of either my bishop or my pawn. But in your aggression, _dear friend_, you forget about the whole battle. I can choose to sacrifice them and further my plans elsewhere." Dumbledore pushed a pawn on the other side of the board and nodded contentedly. "I always was the better player and you, the better duelist. I believe this round goes to me."

_Knock. Knock._ Dumbledore quickly stashed the board away and strode over to the door, grinning as he recognized the magical signature of his visitor.

"Filius Flitwick, my good colleague. How is your arm?" He said as he opened it and was met with the half goblin's scowl.

"Oh shut it, you've been rubbing that one in since a week ago." The diminutive charms teacher looked at the transfiguration teacher peevishly, one of his arms held in a white sling of bandages. A vestige of one of their former duels.

"Forgive me," Albus smiled. "I must remind myself constantly of things I do these days in order not to forget them." He raised a hand against his forehead and pretended, rather unconvincingly, that he was feeling weary. "Alas, my old age is catching up to me."

Filius rolled his eyes at him and stomped in, ignoring the auburn-haired wizard's antics. "Come on, are we going to duel or spend the rest of the evening chit-chatting?"

Albus chucked good naturedly and closed the door behind him. "Who am I to decline when you ask so forcefully? I believe the score stands at seven to three in my favor?"

Filius snarled at him, swearing unintelligibly and Albus frowned. Then he brightened up as he realized what his peer was saying. "I apologize, the score is six to three, in my favor. Old age, you se…" He was cut off as he had to duck a particularly vicious spell that would have dislocated both his shoulders and caused him an excruciating amount of pain.

"That wasn't very nice…" He muttered to himself, getting serious and slowly circling the still fuming charms teacher who mimicked his movements. "It seems getting you riled up isn't as effective as it used to be."

Filius snorted in derision. "I think I figured it out when you knocked me out the first five times when I let you get to me. You're underhanded tricks will not avail you…" His eyes widened as he caught sight of the runes that had lit up beneath his feet. He had enough time to decipher the runes and utter the first syllable of a word before he was teleported onto Hogwart's great lake. "Fu-."

Albus stood motionlessly for a second, before tilting his head and stroking his long white beard. "Quack." He nodded in agreement. "Yes, why, you can almost hear his cries of anger from here." He slowly wandered to the window and gazed down at the splashing form of the defeated charms professor, who had to suffer the indignity of swimming, as the lake had an anti-spell ward encircling it.

"Seven to three." He grinned.

**Page Break**

He ran a hand through his jet black hair, grimacing as he gazed at the naked form of the woman that slept in front of him. Desire warred with disgust as his stomach twisted, intermingled with guilt and shame. _If mother found out about this… consorting with the likes of muggles… _He shivered and quickly put on his clothes. Speaking of mother, it had been a while since he last visited the family mansion. As he donned his cloak, he glanced back at the nubile young woman snoring gently under the sheets. _Despite their lack of magic, everything else is the same. _He grinned at her oblivious and fingered his wand. _Such a pretty thing, shame such looks are wasted on a worthless muggle. Well, maybe I'll pay her another visit… then again it isn't good to get attached to things like this. _

"Obliviate!" He muttered sharply, stabbing his wand at her sleeping form and wiped away a day's worth of memories. He exited the room and apparated back to his private lodgings where he switched to a set of formal clothes and then apparated to his family mansion. The wards rippled around him gently as he walked through the illusory metal gates that barred the front entrance.

Before him stretched the immaculately groomed front lawn of one of the most ancient and noble wizarding families, and in the middle of the gravel path, a magnificent fountain made of ivory and white gold stood as evidence of their wealth. The fountain was round, surrounded by blocks made from rare ivory, and in the middle, the regal sculpture of Poseidon raising his trident proudly at the sky while water poured from his other hand in a flowing cascade that crashed upon the golden figures of numerous water creatures looking up with adoring faces.

As he entered the house, he heard a deep gong echo throughout, announcing his presence. He tilted his head and listened, smiling as the soft pitter patter sound of footsteps slowly grew louder until the beautiful figure of Belvina Black came bursting out into the main living room. Her face, upon catching sight of him, burst into a delighted smile and she quickly enveloped him in her arms.

"My starlight! How I've missed you so! You've not come to visit me in an age." She gave him a crushing hug and he winced at her arm strength. Her curly black hair fell in soft rivulet around soft, delicate features. Belvina was born a Black, and as was common in their bloodline, beauty was her primary attribute.

"Ugh." He grunted, struggling to breath through the slender arms that held his midsection hostage. "Please mother, you're embarrassing me." He whined, returning the hug half-heartedly.

"Oh shush," She patted his head, running her hands through his hair before she moved on and straightened out his tie. "I don't get to do this very often, you know? Besides, no one is here to watch." He rolled his eyes at her antics and grudgingly let her coddle him.

_Thock. Thock. _The sound of a cane smacking against the thick wooden floors interrupted their reunion. "You always did have an uncanny knack for knowing who the visitor is, Belvina." A deep voice growled. Short hair, immaculately trimmed with soft patches of white here and there, the man in front of them cut an imposing figure with his scowl. There was a scar that ran from one cheek to another, right across the bridge of his nose, a remnant from a dark cutting curse. The current patriarch of the Black family entered the room with a silver cane in his left hand and a wand help out in his right. He grunted and pocketed his wand as he recognized the form of his nephew.

"Astrophel, it's been a while. How have you been, beloved nephew? How are things at the ministry?" Cygnus Black hobbled forward, embraced the younger man in a fierce one armed hug.

"I have been well, Uncle." The young Black returned the hug as best he could, amazed at the strength behind the aging wizard. "Things are the same as always at the ministry, although an upstart did raise an issue of a bill of rights for the centaurs. It was denied, however, and I doubt it will come up again. I did hear some rumors that cousin Dorea was to be engaged to one Charlus Potter?"

Cygnus nodded. "A good family, the Potters. The contract has yet to be officialized, but Aurelius and I have already given our blessings. The youngsters certainly seem madly in love with each other, it's pretty much a done deal." He let go of Astrophel and beckoned to the mother and son. "Come, dine with us, you are just in time for lunch."

Belvina looped her hands around Astrophel's arm and the three of them set off toward the main dining hall. Along the way, she bombarded him with questions, and he answered them patiently with an ease born of practice.

"Astrophel! It's been a while, cousin." Lycrois exclaimed, catching sight of him as the trio entered the dining hall. He raised a hand in greeting, while his twin merely gave a bored wave. Regulus was promptly elbowed by his mother, Hesper Gamp and he reluctantly raised a hand in greeting as well, while rolling his eyes at his mother's fastidious nature. The twins were nearly identical, with boyishly handsome features and rugged chins that made them look all the more roguish. The only distinguishing difference between the two was their opposing pair of heterochromatic eyes. Whereas Lycrois had a green pupil in the left eye and a black pupil in his right, Regulus had the exact opposite.

"Cousin Lycrois, Cousin Regulus." Astrophel greeted them in turn and clasped hands with each of them. "Aunt Hesper. You look fabulous, as usual." She chuckled and gave a playful whack on the head. "Save that charm for the ladies, you scoundrel." She kissed him on the forehead roughly and shoved him into an unoccupied seat beside Lycrois.

Cygnus walked to the head of the table and clinked his spoon against his wineglass. Everyone turned to him as he raised his drink and followed suit. "To house Black. _Toujours Pur_." He murmured softly and everyone mimicked his toast. "Milly!" He barked and a sharp crack heralded the arrival of the Black family house elf. "Another set of utensils for my nephew."

"Right away, Master Cygnus."

As he sliced into the ham, Lycrois caught his eye and nodded toward his wrist. "Nice bracelet, cousin. A tad feminine for you, don't you think?"

Astrophel looked down and rolled his eyes. When had that gotten there? It must belong to the muggle woman he slept with last night. He took it off and called for the house elf. Lycrois was chatting with Regulus on the hazards of the severing curse and he was eager to join in their conversation.

"Milly, get rid of this for me. Bin it, set it on fire, I don't care." He passed the bracelet to the house elf. "You're wrong there Lycrois, it's…" He turned to his cousins.

"As you wish, Young Master Black." Milly bowed deeply, her ears flopping forward to cover her massive bulbous eyes. A sharp crack heralded her departure, and the matter was forgotten.

**Page Break**

Ikarus slapped his hand onto the table, then winced and cradled his injured hand. "Dammit." He hissed, wringing his injured hand and glaring at his amused servant. "Nothing at all. You do realize that is impossible. Either you are grossly incompetent, or my information network is compromised." The blond teen drummed his fingers against his desk in thought. "I know the former cannot be true, and the latter … it highly unlikely. But possible."

"My apologies, Mr. Santoro. I will look into the matter immediately." The chef bowed and Ikarus scowled at him. "I told you to call me Ikarus when we are alone."

"My apologies, Mr. Santoro." Ikarus rolled his eyes at his guard's antics. For some inane reason, although privately he acknowledged the point, his bodyguard believed in referring to him only with his business name, even in private, stating that it was not professional if he was ever caught using his bosses' given name. "Leave this at the designated location, as soon as you can."

"Consider it done." Stuart bowed and exited, leaving the vampire to his thoughts.

_How intriguing. I thought that with a description and an alias, I would find at least a trace of you… but still nothing. Impossibility after impossibility. You do not play fair, Hermione… _Icarus pulled out a small bottle of red liquid and raised it to the lamplight. The liquid was thicker than water and small bubbles of air rose as he swirled the ruby liquid inside the vial before uncorking it and taking a long draft. _But that's okay. I don't either._

**Page Break**

_Clink. Clink. _To a pair of experienced ears, the sound of the coins jangling was telling in their heaviness. Galleons, and the scarred informant sitting in front of her knew it. Almost subconsciously, he licked his lips at the thought of a whole galleon and tried to look through the darkness that hid the hooded figure in front of him. He was good at what he did, but not too good. Good spies had a track record of dying early. The world of espionage was one of the most dangerous even in the underworld, as despite their incredible usefulness, no one liked them, not even the people who they worked for. After all, only a fool would trust a spy.

He knew that there had been two others before him and from the rumors he heard, both had left the moment they heard what the person wanted. Unsurprising given that they had been asked to provide information on Mr. Santoro. Both had assumed it was a trap laid by the blond moneylender to see if there was anyone foolish enough to have loose lips, and this would not be the first time such a trap had been laid, but the ratty faced gambler was in desperate and urgent need of money, and after a careful weighing of his options, he decided to brave the evil he knew rather than the one he didn't. Better the hospital than the morgue, after all.

Hermione tried to hide her annoyance, but she wasn't entirely successful in keeping her tone neutral. Trying to find out more about the elusive blond head of the underworld was like trying to catch a puff of dust in the air. The harder she swiped at it, the further it flew away. "What can you tell me about Mr. Santoro?"

The man in front of her looked cautiously up at her cloaked face, before his eyes darted around nervously, trying to see if anyone was looking or listening in on their conversation. In between his perusal of their surroundings, his eyes would inevitably drift down the table to where her hands were hidden beneath her cloak and most importantly, to where the money was hidden. "Listen." He murmured, continuing to look around nervously as if expecting everyone to be looking at them, but the bar was crowded and there was no way to discern whether or not someone was watching them. "You can't just go around asking this question to everyone you meet. You're going to draw his attention, and that's the last thing you want." _Too late._ Hermione thought to herself wryly. _I went to the dragon's lair willingly, and now I need to know how deep of the hole I dug for myself goes. _The man had clearly seen better days, his beard was uneven and ragged, his clothes torn and scruffy around the edges from one too many cleaning charm and his eyes wild with hunger and fear. All in all, the perfect combination of sleaziness and untrustworthy tinged with desperation.

She grimaced and made to rise, thinking the reply to be a refusal. The man shot an arm out to grab her, and Hermione's reflex kicked in before she even registered what was going on. Before the short balding man was even in range to touch her cloak, her wand was already fixed at his forehead and the tip glowed an ominous and vibrant orange. He froze, and they both stood still for all of a second, before she withdrew her wand back under her cloak and the scarred informant gulped in relief. Luckily for Hermione, it seemed no one had caught sight of their little exchange and she quickly ducked back into the booth.

"Don't do that again." She growled, her heart thumping a million beats inside her chest and a spark of lightning danced along her spine as she felt her fight or flight instincts flare up. The balding man nodded warily at her in understanding and quickly held both hands up in a gesture of submission.

"Sorry. I didn't… I mean…" He stammered hurriedly before falling silent when she raised a hand to shut him up.

"Mr. Santoro. What can you tell me about him." She used her occlumency trained meditation technique to re-establish her calm. Her tone was once again neutral and professional, completely devoid of any particular emotion.

The informant looked at her warily, trying to gauge the situation, but Hermione gave nothing away. He looked around the table, trying to spot if this was a ploy or a trap of some sort, but once again he saw nothing out of ordinary. Finally, he nodded in acceptance. "But, before I tell you anything, I'll need an advance payment." He smiled weakly at her, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably at it. "That's how we do things around here."

Hermione said nothing, letting the silence stretch a little to test his reaction. She didn't need to use legilimency to sense the desperation from her companion at the table. He practically reeked of it, and as the tension continued to build, he fidgeted nervously.

At last, she slowly slid a sickle out from under her hood and pushed it forward. He reached for it, but she didn't let go. He looked up at her cloaked figure confusedly, and she leaned in while simultaneously letting some of her aura enshroud the booth they were in. "If you lie to me, I will know." She said in a low hiss, making sure to wait until his eyes widened in fear and comprehension before letting go of the silver coin and withdrawing her aura. She looked around them, and seeing no eyes on them, proceeded to turn back to the ratty looking informant. "Now, talk."

_Seven years ago, Knockturn Alley was divided into three different underworld factions. The Redfoxes were an ex-military group from Russia, the Fleur de feu was an organisation composed mainly of remnants from the French Resistance, and the Gentlemen's Club was a British underground network that specialized in black market trading and, as the name would suggest, whore houses. Of the three, the Gentlemen's Club was by far the most dominant in terms of sheer power, numbers and wealth, but the Fleur de feu were much better organized and coordinated. However, rumor had it neither of them had the same brutality as the Redfoxes._

_**A gentlemen your demise contrive, **_

_**and a flower may poison you alive, **_

_**but the fox will family and friends deprive.**_

He shivered at this and Hermione had a feeling that it was more than just rumor.

_Things were much messier and far more deadly, and it wasn't all that uncommon for vicious fights to erupt out on the streets. In the midst of this, the ministry tried to hold the factions back, but it just wasn't working. Knockturn Alley was their turf and anyone who called this place home had to align himself with one of em, or else they weren't long for the world. _

_It was around the height of their skirmishes that __**he**__ came into Knockturn Alley and set up a bakery. It was a real small one, and somehow he slipped through the cracks. By the time the gangs noticed, he already had multiple businesses set up all around Knockturn Alley. We used to call em safe havens. Soon he was one of the most profitable business man in Knockturn Alley and everyone who didn't want no part in the gang wars went to him for help. Course, the gangs weren't happy about it. So they decided to do him in. The problem was, his businesses were in each of the gang districts, and they all wanted a piece of him. So for the first time, a missive went out among the groups of each of the three factions, calling for a ceasefire. _

The man stopped and grinned mischievously at Hermione.

"At this point, we get a bunch of rumors about what happened during the final confrontation. The first story says Mr. Santoro set up a trap and lured the leaders of each of the factions and killed em with horrible dark magic. The stories say he wielded a wand made of bone and that his magic was so strong not even the combined power of the three factions could stop him." He paused here and leaned in as he whispered. "Some say he used blood magic to destroy his enemies." Hermione stiffened slightly in alarm, and the informant smirked, thinking she had been stunned and scared by mention of blood magic. _Does no one actually know that he is a vampire?_ Hermione thought to herself, somewhat distracted by the thought. _Vampires cannot use magic, barring certain spells and rituals. _

The bartender wandered over, asking if they wanted something to drink and Hermione politely declined. Her companion handed over the sickle and ordered a beer. They sat in silence, waiting for the bartender to finish pouring the drink before continuing.

"Then there are those who think he was secretly working with the foxes, and together they killed off the other two gangs. Then, as the fight was nearing the end, he betrayed the foxes and killed em too. They say that Mr. Santoro could break any contract he wishes, major or not." The man shivered at the prospect of such a power and shook his head slowly. "I don't believe such nonsense. There ain't any way around magical vows," he muttered. "And even if there were, that still don't make any sense why the foxes would team up with Mr. Santoro. Course," he interjected. "Some say it wasn't the foxes, but the flowers, and even some say it was the Gentlemen's Club." He shrugged and sipped his mug of beer. Idly, he scratched his beard before continuing.

_No one knows for sure what happened that night, and those that do are silent and say nothing. Most because they are dead, and the others are loyal to Mr. Santoro. Whatever the case, magics or betrayal, he emerged the victor and the king. The next year, he sweeped through the underworld, destroying any trace of the previous factions. They say he uses a glamor to disguise himself as a small child, in order to lure others into a false sense of safety. Knockturn Alley was at peace for the first time. Course, there were the occasional idiots who tried to take a piece from Mr. Santoro, but they never lasted long. Anyone who went against him inevitably lost everything but their life. That's how the blacklist started, cause you see, Mr. Santoro knew that killing someone wouldn't be enough to scare the others. So instead, he banned them. And when Mr. Santoro bans you, it pretty much means Knockturn Alley bans you. There ain't nothing around here that he doesn't have a piece of. _

"That's pretty much it." He drained the rest of the beer and slapped the mug on the table with a satisfied smile. "S'far as I know."

Hermione frowned. "What about the ministry? What were they doing during this whole miniature war?"

The man raised an eyebrow at her. "Ya think they give a rat's ass about what goes on here? Nah, so long as none of the fights touch the pretty walls of Diagon Alley, they don't give two hoots who lives or dies around here." He spat onto the side and scowled. "All they do is raid a joint when they get rumors about dark artifacts. Each time they do it, they always find nothing," he smirked smugly at her as if he was responsible for their failures. "Now, where's the rest of my coin?" He rubbed his hands greedily and his eyes lit up when Hermione slid the galleon to him.

"Not so fast." She said, slamming her hand down on the coin before he could snatch it away. He scowled petulantly at her. "I've told you all I know, come on."

"I may require your services in the future. I have need for someone who is not afraid to … discuss certain things." He paled as remembered exactly who they had just talked about. He gulped nervously, but before he could refuse, Hermione lifted her hand. The galleon gleamed in the low torchlight of the bar and he shuffled nervously. "I will, of course," Hermione purred softly, "pay handsomely for access to such a wealth of information."

The semi-bald spy grinned at this and held out his hand to her. "Deal. Just leave a note under this table with a meeting time and I'll be there. The name's Sammy Fletcher."

**So ends chapter four. I really wanted to inject an action scene into the story, but somehow I could not find a way to hasten things. I'm going to have to ask that you bear with me for a few more chapters, since the next one will be dedicated mostly to Tom, Astrophel and Albus. With a little bit of Grindelwald thrown in. I promise there will be at least one proper fight scene in the next chapter.**

**For me, Albus was a very interesting character to write. He is also probably the most difficult one for me to relate to, with Grindelwald coming in a close second. **

**I know Hermione hasn't really progressed anywhere, but my timeframe is kind of slow. She just got her wand and is busy trying to sort out where and what she can do, while having to deal with the pesky Ikarus who is trying to worm his way into her good graces. She's also very silly sometimes, and her tendency to throw her power around is going to cause her a lot of problems. **

**I just wish I had more time to write, and sometimes I wish I could write faster too. Ah, life. It's interesting that the more I write this story, the more I fall in love with it, and the more I want to write. It's a very good circle. **

**Reviews make me happy! And again, a thanks to everyone who reviewed and added my story to their favorite list. It's always nice to be reminded that someone else also likes my story.**


	5. Ventures

**A.N. Thank you for all the reviews, they helped inspire me when I went off in the wrong direction. Initially, I wasn't sure how to portray the Slytherin house, luckily for me I was inspired by something I watched and everything else flowed from there. **

**A special thanks to Lity who gave me another review in spanish. I thoroughly enjoyed unravelling the message, with the help of my dear friend, Mr. Google Translate, and the short answer to your question of Hermione's attendance at Hogwarts is yes. She wants to get close to Dumbledore, and the only way to do that is Hogwarts. That's all I'm saying. Concerning Ikarus, we're going to learn more about what he is doing and why he is trying to be all friendly to Hermione shortly. I hope to clarify it within the next two chapters (this one included). **

**Thank you Yira, for reviewing each chapter as you read them. I very much enjoyed hearing from you! If you have any specific question, please feel free to post them. I think I addressed most of your enquiries in some of my other A.N.'s, but let me know if I missed anything.**

**Also thanks to ****LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL**** for her encouraging words, or word in this case. I hope my new headers help make things clearer, ****fspsarcastic, and yes, Vera is important. She's … oh whoops. Almost spoiled something. **

**If you guys want, I can post a small chapter to reply to your questions and inquiries before posting a completed chapter, that way you don't have to wait until the next chapter before hearing from me. **

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Armando Dippet spoke feebly, forcing the gathered students to strain their ears in order to hear the severely aged headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry's welcome speech. Dippet was a very old man, with certain rumors placing him from anywhere between two to three hundred years old, and it was visibly evident his glory days were long past. Deep wrinkle lines coupled with hollow and sunken cheeks, along with a few floating strand of white hair, made for the perfect image of a man nearing the end of his life's journey. "I hope you all had a wonderful winter break, and are now once again all ready to pursue your studies with the utmost of diligence in order to uphold our prestigious reputation." Since it was Dippet who said this, there wasn't an ounce of humor or mockery in his voice. The aged wizard genuinely believed in what he was saying.

There was a collective groan from the student body, but it was quiet enough that Dippet did not notice. The other teachers seated on the staff table behind him certainly did and Flitwick shot Dumbledore an exasperated smile. Discreetly, of course.

"As a reminder," here Dippet tried to look around the great hall sternly, as if to highlight the importance of what he was about to say, but it only served to make him appear as if he had forgotten his lines. A soft murmur broke out among the students, but quickly died out when the aged headmaster continued on, oblivious to his failure in conveying the importance of what he wanted to say. "The Forbidden Forest is a restricted area for all students, with the exception of a teacher's promissory note and accompaniment. Any student caught after curfew will be subjected to Apollyon's care." There were more than a few shivers at that, as the caretaker of Hogwarts had a well-deserved reputation for being extremely brutal in his punishments.

Dumbledore frowned, clearly displeased but unable to anything about it. Dippet was a firm believer in harsh corporeal disciplinary action against misbehaviors, and despite their multiple discussions, the two had never seen eye to eye on the subject. Sadly, Dippet was the headmaster and had the last word on the issue.

"On a side note, Professor Kettleburn has been put on probation for the winter semester, pending further investigation." Here, Dippet turned and pulled off a remarkable scathing glare at the sheepish looking wizard sitting to the extreme left of the staff table. Everyone in the Great Hall groaned at this in unison, and Flitwick took the chance to lean toward Dumbledore, who was chuckling amusedly while stroking his beard, and mutter softly, "This is the forty-fifth time he's been put on probation. Two galleons it's his last."

Dumbledore thought about it for a second and shrugged carelessly. "Despite his tendency for eliciting probations, Silvanus is an excellent Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Two galleons it is."

"Perhaps. But still, forty-fifth probation!" Flitwick exclaimed. His incredulity was not reciprocated among his peers.

"I'm afraid I must agree with Albus." A portly wizard leaned toward the conversing duo and winked at them. "I have it on good authority that the charges will be dropped shortly."

The half goblin groaned and sank back into his chair sulkily. "Seeing as it's from you Horace, I might as well pay the two galleons now."

Horace Slughorn laughed softly and sipped his pumpkin juice. "Well, you never know. My contacts are not infallible."

Dumbledore smiled sharply at the rotund potions professor. "Which is no doubt why you are so busy procuring the favors of the students in your … Slug Club, was it?" Despite the sharp words, there was no bite to it and Slughorn did not take offense.

The potions teacher shrugged good naturedly, brushing off the none too subtle jab at having his hidden activities brought to light. "We all have our own ways of acquiring strength. Merlin knows I don't have an ounce of your flair for magic."

Flitwick chortled at this. "Even Merlin doesn't compare to Albus when it comes to Transfiguration. The man's a complete monster with that wand of his."

The brunet wizard chuckled, "You flatter me. But it seems Armando has finished reaming poor professor Kettleburn."

They quieted as Dippet finally turned back to the student body. "On a further note, I would like to announce that we will be having a Spring pantomime of _The Fountain of Fair Fortunes_. Students interested should present themselves to Professor Beery for further details. This concludes the announcements. Dig in!" The elderly wizard clambered down from the pedestal he had been standing on and retook his seat in the middle of the staff table. He was beaming, completely oblivious to the political landmines he had just triggered. An excited hub of whispers broke out among the students, but the Slytherin table was noticeably quiet and quite a few students decked in the traditional silver and green robes looked positively livid.

Slughorn shook his head in disbelief. "Oh Merlin, this is not going to go over well. Of all the plays to choose, why that particular one…"

Flitwick bared his teeth and chortled gleefully. "I can't wait to see how the purebloods react. Three galleons 'Amata' will not be played by a Slytherin."

Dumbledore frowned at him reproachfully. "That is no bet and you know it," he sighed and shook his head softly. "Armando and Herbert have a bad habit of not thinking things through. While I personally enjoy a good play from time to time with little regard the narrative details, there are many who will disagree. I sincerely hope nothing bad happens, Hogwarts can ill afford another scandal."

Slughorn nodded solemnly in agreement as he stabbed a carving knife into the chicken in front of him.

**At the Slytherin table**

Avery slammed his hand down on the table, the crisp slap of flesh on wood temporarily cutting into through the muted whispers of outrage and silencing any offended parties. "Dippet is out of his mind, we all know this. But that's not important right now." He looked around the table, as everyone's attention focused on him. "What is important for us purebloods…" He was cut off as a voice positively dripping in scorn interrupted with little fanfare.

"As if you are in any position to know what is and is not important for purebloods." Evelynn Rosier sneered, her blond curls bouncing as she tilted her head to the side aggressively, her disdain evident from her scowl. Despite her distance from Avery, she did not shout or rush. Her words were carefully measured and delivered with pinpoint accuracy and precision.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Rosier?" Avery growled, "I am a pureblood, as you well know."

Beside her, Abraxas Malfoy smiled and jumped at the chance to put Avery on the defensive. "You may be a pureblood Avery, but the company you keep does raise certain questions about your legitimacy." He shrugged, seemingly apologetic, but doing a bad job at making it seem semi-legitimate. Whispers broke out again, and for a second it looked as if Avery was going for his wand.

"Enough." Tom Marvolo Riddle's voice was not nearly as loud as his counterparts, but it carried a surprising strength and calmness that it instantly shut everyone up. "We endure enough ridicule from the other inferior houses. Do not disgrace the noble house of Slytherin by any further infighting."

"Che." Malfoy scoffed, "And what would a half-blood like you…" Walburga Black took this moment to throw her fork at him, cutting him off short as he had to duck to avoid being impaled by the silver utensil. His expression of shock was only further increased by her casual comment afterwards.

"Oops. I'm so sorry, Abraxus. My hand slipped." She giggled coyly, but no one was convinced at her otherwise convincing act. She stopped after a few seconds when nobody joined in. "Fine be that way," she pouted. "You're all no fun."

Tom chuckled and shook his head in exasperation. "Rest assured, something will be done. But for now, I suggest we stop any further discussion on the subject. Malfoy," The prefect nodded to the still scowling blond. "Black." Walburga raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "I'd like a word in private." His tone was suave and nonchalant, but there was no mistaking what they would be talking about.

Walburga shrugged. "Fine."

Abraxas looked apoplectic, but Evelynn elbowed him and whispered something in his ear and he scowled fiercely, but nodded curtly back at Tom.

Beside the handsome black haired teen, Avery stabbed at his steak angrily, his utensils making an unholy clatter as he vented his anger out on the piece of meat. Tom sighed, and took a sip of his drink. "You're too easily riled, Avery."

"Not you too!" Avery snapped. Tom waited, his expression neutral and composed. The silence stretched poignantly and Avery's anger began to fade. He looked at Tom contritely, still playing with his food. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get mad at you. Malfoy and Rosier are such dicks sometimes."

"It's fine Avery, you don't have to apologize to me. In fact, if anything it is my fault for asking you to bite the bullet and speak out." Avery shook his head. "No, you were right. The first person to speak was going to be under fire. Better me than you, I'm fine with being bait."

Tom raised his cup. "And such a fine piece of bait you were. Rosier couldn't keep her hands off you." Avery grinned back, the earlier altercation already forgotten. "I think she fancies me. Think I should ask her out?"

Tom laughed, shaking his head in mirth. "You would have better luck with Malfoy." Avery recoiled, his expression stricken. "Ew." He shuddered. "Just no. No." He made a face and glared at Tom. "I need to scrub my brain clean now with an obliviate, thanks to you."

Tom just kept laughing.

**Later**

The three of them sat in a triangle around the circular table, the only one in the entire common room, they stared intently at each other. Well, Abraxas stared intently at Tom, who was looking at a nearby painting, and Walburga was staring off into the distance, seemingly lost for thought.

"Well?" Malfoy said at last, his patience having finally been worn thin by the prolonged silence. "What do you want, _Riddle_?" He purposely stressed the last word, trying not so subtly to highlight Riddle's half-blood heritage.

The only non-pureblood at the table simply smiled, letting the insult slide past him with an ease born of habit. "I always found it rather bizarre that we would have a painting of a lion in the Slytherin common room. Considering the antagonistic relationship we have with the Gryffindors, I would have thought the painting to have a short life span."

Walburga turned to him with a laugh. "Ha! We've all tried. Rumor has it, Godric himself spelled that painting on the walls. Nobody but the headmaster can take that painting down, and he's too stupid to do it." She explained gleefully. Neither of them paid any attention to Malfoy.

Abraxas stood abruptly, his hands still flat on the table. "This is a waste of my time." But he made no move to leave and eventually Walburga turned to him and spoke with a lazy drawl. "Sit down. Or leave. And we," she nodded in Tom's direction. "Will decide what Slytherin will do without you." Abraxas scowled and sat slowly, anger and shame warring on his face at his bluff being called. "Then talk and stop wasting my time." He blustered, his hands twitching slightly.

Tom steepled his fingers and leaned in slightly, drawing the attention of the other two members at the table. "I propose an alliance between the three of our groups. I believe we have a mutual agenda which will be better served if we work together, rather than separately."

The blond pureblood sneered at this. "Suppose I agree to this endeavor. Who will lead this project? Avery?" He mocked. Tom smiled sharply and folded his hands together. "I would like to nominate Evelynn Rosier as head organizer." Abraxas opened his mouth, then closed it in surprise. Walburga swirled her head around to look at him, her cheery demeanor forgotten in the wake of her surprise.

Tom smiled enigmatically, and spread his hands out. "Any objections to my proposal?" He was met with silence as two pairs of eyes scrutinized him for any hint or clue that would reveal his intentions. They found none, of course.

"I have no objections. Abraxas?" Walburga said, her tone distracted, but her eyes remained on Tom and narrowed slightly as he merely smiled enigmatically back, unfazed by her intense and blatant scrutiny.

"Very well, that is acceptable." The blond said it stiffly, still staring at the smiling prefect. He was trying very hard to seem displeased, but between his confusion and poor acting skills, it made him look constipated.

"Excellent!" The brunet clapped his hands together and stood smoothly, his expression still cheerful and utterly impossible to read. He did not look at all like a man who had just nominated his primary adversary for the prestigious position as leader of Slytherin. "You will provide your unconditional support?" Abraxas asked suspiciously, only to realize a second later that the question was as foolish as it was offensive.

"Malfoy." Tom said the name slowly, a dark undertone creeping into his voice. His expression slowly faded into one of neutral apathy. "Are you implying I would sabotage Slytherin house's interest?" The room's tension heightened and the blond hurriedly backtracked. "Of course not…" He broke off, as Tom grinned at him in a friendly manner and cut in firmly with a, "Good. I'll pretend I never heard you say anything." He nodded to each of them. "Black. Malfoy. I'll see you in class." Then he left, his pace carefully measured to look neither too slow nor too fast.

Walburga on the other hand, stood slowly, her expression still thoughtful. "Oh Abraxas. Say hi to Evelynn for me. I can't wait to see how she's going to respond to this." She waved at him jauntily, and left. Abraxas gritted his teeth at her casual disrespect and slammed his hand on the table. What was Tom planning?

"Rosier?" Avery spluttered. "Are you out of your mind, Tom?" The two of them were sitting in the public area of the Slytherin common room and Tom quickly raised a finger to his lips. "Some discretion please, Avery." He chided softly. The former quickly looked around, but no one was paying them any attention. He leaned in toward Tom and muttered fiercely under his breath. "She's the brains behind Malfoy's group and you want to let her lead the one and only alliance we have ever agreed upon?"

Tom raised an eyebrow and slowly tucked the book he had been planning on reading into his bag. It was too late to continue now what with DADA class looming ahead, and Avery didn't look like he was going to let the matter go either. "Oh really. I hadn't realized." His voice overflowing with sarcasm. Avery leaned back and scratched at his head.

"Okay. I still don't see it." He said after a moment's thought. He fidgeted in place, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concentration. "You can't sabotage the project, not without turning the entire house against you. If she succeeds, then she'll gain reputation and influence. All of which is bad for us." Avery fell silent and stood. He then began to pace around in a small circle. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to the expectant Tom with open mouth, then closed it. "Nope. I've got nothing. The brunet prefect rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers against the armchair he was sitting in.

"I've got it!" Avery cried suddenly, attracting a few curious glances. But Tom's spells prevented anyone from overhearing their conversation. The prefect raised an eyebrow, a small part wondering if his friend had really uncovered his plot. "You've gone mad! Haven't you, Tom?" Avery looked at the amused prefect with genuine worry. "Or maybe...Amortentia!" He suddenly exclaimed, realization dawning on his face. "Rosier must have drugged you earlier at dinner. We need to visit the hospital wing and let nurse…"

Exasperated, Tom threw a nearby book at the black haired fifth year, even as Avery broke off into laughter. "Idiot."

Avery grinned. "No seriously, I don't understand." His expression grew serious and he stopped pacing. Tom shook his head and grinned enigmatically. "You're not seeing the big picture."

"Tell me." Avery whined, plopping onto his chair. "My brain is hurting and the only conclusion I can come to is either you are crazy or drugged."

Tom shook his head in exasperation. "Well, I'm not telling you. Suffice to say, I have something planned." Avery was the one to roll his eyes this time. "Obviously. Even Abraxas can see that and he's an idiot. Fine, be that way. I won't tell you what I heard during winter break." He pretended to inspect his fingernails, his expression a casual _I don't really care._ Tom pulled out his wand threateningly. "Don't make me torture it out of you like last time." Avery pretended to be stricken with fear and mocked his friend. "Oh no! Not the tickling charm!" He bolted from the room when Tom shot a green colored bolt of magic at him.

Tom put his wand away, grinning, and glanced at the clock. He had a quarter hour before DADA started, but it didn't hurt to prepare his supplies early. As he strode to his prefect quarters, he missed a pair of curious and intrigued eyes following his movement.

"It's your move, Black." Her opponent taunted her, but she barely heard. _I wonder what he is up to._ She finally looked away from the door leading to the prefect's chambers and back to the board. She raised an eyebrow at her opponent and he flinched ever so slightly. "Put my bishop back or I will beat you to a pulp the next time we duel." Lestrange sheepishly pulled her bishop from inside his pocket and yelped with the piece bit him angrily all the while yelling expletives at him for being a cheating scumbag. "You won't actually beat me to a pulp next time we duel, right?" He asked somewhat nervously.

Walburga smiled at him and replied in a cancerously sweet tone. "Why, are you scared of little Walburga?" She fluttered her eyes in an attempt to look innocent and pouted when he gave her an incredulous look. "All you Blacks are nuts, I swear."

"Thank you." She beamed at him and commanded one of her pieces forward. "That wasn't a compliment." He replied dryly, used to her eccentricities.

**Somewhere in Germany**

"We found him." Mikhail said the words matter of factly in a low and quiet voice, quite unlike his usual jovial and playful tone. Vera looked up from a map depicting the movement of several muggle armies, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Him?" She repeated somewhat sardonically. "Who are we talking about exactly?"

Despite belonging to the same guild for well over a decade, Vera and Mikhail had never seen eye to eye. The first time they had met, he had thought her temperament too mercurial and volatile for a leader to possess, while she wrote him off as undisciplined and difficult to manage, but they both came to respect each other's skills. Still, there was always a distance between them, and Jaeger had to act as mediator more times than he cared to.

"Skirfir Havarsson, our former guild leader was sighted yesterday by a few of my agents. They followed him back to his current domicile." The scorn in Mikhail's voice was nothing compared to the fury of the grey-eyed maiden. Upon hearing the name, her face contorted into a rictus of rage and fury for all of a second, before the expression vanished and her face slid into a mask. Vera closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to reclaim her internal equilibrium. Mikhail waited patiently, knowing better than to say any more.

"Is he alone?" She asked at last, the only sign of her anger lingering in the cool air that circulated around her, chilled by her aura. Mikhail nodded. "I've already informed Jaeger. What are your orders?" He asked, as he handed over a small handheld mirror. Vera took it and peered into the reflective glass and saw a small farmland reflected back. She touched the screen and slowly slid a finger down the side of the glass. The picture zoomed out a little and she caught sight of the surrounding forest. "Isolated area, with only a forest as cover. This is almost too good to be true. What are the odds of it being a trap?" She mused aloud and held the mirror out.

"Doubtful, but just in case, I swept the area. If it is a trap, it is not a magical one. He was smart, there isn't a single source of magic within three miles of the farm. I must say it was pure chance that we found him." Mikhail replied, taking back the scrying mirror and pocketed it.

"I want you to gather your best squad and set up a triple layered net. Can you do that?" Vera's question was nothing short of a demand, and Mikhail knew there was only one answer she would accept.

"Of course. I'll get on it right away." He saluted her, and turned to leave.

"Mikhail." Vera called out, right before he left the area. The blond spymaster turned, curiosity evident in his expression. Vera stared at him for a second before smiling softly. "I like this version of you better."

The slightly shorter wizard smirked and winked at her. "Don't get used to it." Vera rolled her eyes, a faint note of fondness bleeding into her exasperated tone. "And there you go spoiling what would have otherwise been a flawless performance."

As he vanished through the doorframe, Vera's thoughts darkened as they turned to the man who had once been her teacher and guild master. Her former father figure and the wizard responsible for the death of her dearest friend. She reached up with her left hand and clenched her right shoulder, feeling her anger boil inside her veins like molten lava. The guild tattoo beneath her fingers shifted, feeling her agitation, and the green and gold Thunderfury bared its fangs viciously in reply to her mood. "Sorry Diana. I know you'd berate me for this and tell me to let it go, but I'm a very selfish and petty witch." Vera closed her eyes. "I'll give him a swift death, in honor of his past. That's the best I can do. Sorry." It came out a bitter and forlorn whisper.

**Later**

"Is everyone in position?" The raven haired sorceress felt the rune stone in her hands shake once in affirmative. "Erect the wards. Jaeger, with me. Remember, keep it clean and simple."

Mikhail had huffed in annoyance and displeasure when she had informed him only Jaeger would come, but had not protested much. Although he was on good terms with the friendly healer, they had not shared as deep a friendship as his other guildmates. Besides, there was another reason she wanted Jaeger with her.

"I have your back." The hulking german seemed as stoic as ever, but Vera knew it was only a facade. She was the only one who Jaeger had told of his love for the diminutive healer, but thanks to Skirfir, he would never be able to confess his feelings to her. And despite his professionalism, for which he was famous, Vera still worried. She bit her lower lips, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him along. Then she realized what a hypocrite she would be if she didn't and let the matter fall from her mind. Skirfir had been a powerful wizard in his youth, and even though the odds were stacked heavily in her favor, Vera still felt a twinge of apprehension deep in her stomach. It was too late to worry about that, she mused to herself, unfolding her arms and letting them drop to her sides. Her path was set, like an arrow from a bow. There was no turning back now.

Within seconds of her command, an oppressive pressure had snapped onto the field around them as anti-apparition, anti-portkey and anti-floo wards popped into existence. There were perhaps only four wizards capable of creating a triple layered net at will on the fly, and Mikhail was the best among them. Skirfir would have nowhere to run.

He was waiting for them, no doubt having realized what was happening the moment the wards had descended from nowhere, and he greeted the two of them with a slow and casual wave of his hands. "I had a feeling we would meet again, Vera. And is that Jaeger behind you?" He chuckled as he lit his pipe. Vera noticed a slight tremble in his left hand. "I thought I recognized his hulking figure."

Havarsson had clearly seen better days. Where once there had been golden hair, only faded white wisps of hair remained drifting in the chilly twilight breeze. His eyes were weary, and the lines on his face were more pronounced than Vera remembered them to be. He was a pale imitation of what she remembered him to be, and despite her anger and fury for him, Vera felt a pang of regret and sadness. Things had been different once, but it was so long ago it might as well have been a dream.

"Let us dispense with the pleasantries." Vera voice was as cold as ice, her hesitation well-hidden beneath a veil of coolness and impassivity. "You know why we are here. Do you have any last words?"

"Vera, dear little Vera," Skirfir laughed derisively and shook his head. "To think I would die by your wand." He paused, his expression one of pain and sadness, and tilted his head before musing aloud. "These are Mikhail's wards," he said thoughtfully, voice tinged with hysteria, sharp and high. "I recognize his handiwork. So, this is how it ends, at the hands of those who betrayed me."

"Betrayed?" Vera spat out. "You dare to speak of betrayal when it was your machinations that led to Diana's death."

Skirfir's face contorted into rage. "The four of you betrayed me by asking to leave. What happened to our vow? We swore to be a family and that our decisions would always be to the benefit of our family, but the four of you sought to tear it all apart. I did what I had to in order to save our guild. I regret Diana's death, but frankly, she deserved it. As do you all."

Vera's temper flared and she felt her aura stir around her, responding to her desire to rend him apart. "There was a time when I looked up to you, as both friend and mentor, but gone are the days when you commanded our loyalty and respect." She raised her wand as her aura burst free around her, blasting the surrounding greenery into a fine hoarfrost and sending the ambient temperature plunging downwards.

Jaeger stepped away from her, knowing it would be unwise to stay too close to the furious witch and took up his own stance, wand held slightly higher than Vera's. Skirfir had thrown his pipe away and took up a defensive stance, his wand held sideways. His eyes darted wildly between the two of them, his expression one of fury and savagery. Jaeger made the first move, shooting a dark half crescent cutter that narrowed as it traveled forward. It sliced through the air with a faint whine, lengthening until it was nearly impossible to discern with sight alone.

Skirfir immediately swiped his wand in an aborted semi-circle and a transparent gold oval sprung into existence in front of him, twice his body-length in diameter and slightly higher than his height. The cutter struck with a deep gong and bounced back, its speed and power slightly reduced. The once guild leader then threw himself to the side with all his strength, narrowly dodging Vera's complimentary spear of ice which, being a physical spell, completely disregarded his shield. The golden oval faded as Skirfir slowly clambered to a crouch, wary of any further incoming spells. But neither Vera nor Jaeger pressed their initiative, the latter parrying his weakened spell with ease and slowly circled around to Skirfir's left while Vera advanced straight forward, fearlessly. It was clear they wanted to place him in crossfire, and there was very little he could do to prevent it from happening. He could not afford to split his attention on either one of them as they were both equally deadly.

The former guild leader drew a deep breath and sighed. He abandoned his defensive stance and jabbed his wand at the ground, sending a shockwave of compressed air outwards. He began to chain a series of wide area offensive hexes, but was interrupted by Jaeger countering with a variant of the _pertundere _hex, sending dozens of small silvery homing daggers in a wide arc that perforated through the incoming shock wave with ease. As Skirfir hastily erected a thick golden molasses like shield that enshrouded him completely, he took his eye off Vera for a brief second. His shield slowed the spiralling silver bolts of the perforation hex and he gave an internal sigh of relief as they dissolved shortly thereafter. He turned back to Vera, his wand already half in motion for strongest physical shield in his repertoire.

His instincts were spot on, as Vera had not missed the chance to punish him for his lapse of attention. She had immediately begun to intone the syllables for one of her own creations, and used Skirfir's split second of distraction by overloading the spell. As a result, a half dozen icy white spears tinged with blue appeared above her head, and Vera sent them forward with a soft and lazy jab. The shards were not particularly fast, perhaps only half the speed of Jaeger's hex, but they were erratic in their movement and incredibly hard to predict. Skirfir recognized the spell, and knew that the jagged spears would dodge any obstacle until they homed in on his location, barring a physical wall of sorts, but he did not have time nor skill to transfigure a tangible barrier from thin air.

Instead, he layered his bright golden shield eleven times over and created a cushion of compressed air in between each layer that would explode outwards upon impact in order to counter the secondary effect of her spell. He was on his twelfth layer when the first spear impacted the yellow colored shell of his shield. Instantly, the icy spell detonated with the force of a bomb, sending multiple spikes of magic and ice forward with such speed and force that a concussive blast of air echoed out as they broke the speed of sound. Each icicle then shattered under the stress, becoming a thin haze of icy shrapnel that shot forward through the broken shield. The first spear shattered through two layers, the second three, the third pierced through two and the fourth ripped apart the remaining layers. The fifth and final spear impacted simultaneously and detonated against his last resort shield.

Skirfir had realized the futility of his twelfth layer the moment the first orb burst, so he had spent the second between the second and fifth detonation to activate the runes on his cloak. His last ditch effort to survive Vera's lethal spell. He curled into himself as his cloak expanded and became a blue force field appeared in between him and the remaining orbs. The cloak was of his own design, made during his youth and had protected him against many dangers and had served him well over the years.

The raven haired witch had put up a shield made of ice while her companion had opted to erect a thick wall of earth to safeguard against any stray shrapnel and air pressure. As the icy mist cleared, they lowered their shields and caught sight of their enemy. Skirfir's cloak was in tatters and there were multiple lacerations that bled profusely running across his entire body. His left hand hung limply by his side and he was on his knees gasping. The ground around him was shredded beyond repair, the soil completely ripped apart and furrows of uprooted shrubbery were all that remained of the once fertile land. Behind Skirfir for about ten meters, a frozen wasteland stretched out as far as the eye could see. Several nearby trees had suffered collateral damage and were riddled with shards of melting ice.

"Marvelous." He croaked out, slowly standing. As one, Vera and Jaeger raised their wands. But Skirfir beat them to the punch, and began to intone a spell. Vera recognized the spell after the third syllable and her eyes widened in surprise. "Shield!" She barked, immediately abandoning her offense. It was a mark of their mutual training and teamwork that Jaeger followed suit, his offensive spell canceled mid-cast as he began to weave his magic into the shield, even before he had fully registered the command. A sparkling blue shield popped into existence before the two of them and they began to walk toward each other as Vera coordinated her spell with her companion. The shield's vibrant azure color became sharper as the spell finalized, just in time as Skirfir finished his fifteen syllable suicide spell.

"Bang." He muttered, grinning madly as the world was suddenly set ablaze. The red-orange light from the setting sun was suddenly eclipsed as a miniature ball of intense white light blazed into existence before Grindelwald's followers. Vera and Jaeger turned away from the light, but the glare pierced through their closed eyelids and set their world awash in crimson red. The ground shook and the wind howled, and for a few seconds it was impossible to breathe. The shield trembled and flickered under the immense pressure, but held. The roar of rushing wind slowly died down and the earth's agitation stilled.

Far away from the field of combat, Mikhail stiffened as a spike of magic ripped through the first two layers of his wards. One of his men was collapsed bonelessly as the backlash knocked him out instantly. The sheer force of the magic sent a shiver through his spine and he felt a sliver of fear creep through his body. Was that Vera's spell? Or Skirfir? He chewed his lips nervously and swore. Then he apparated directly to the hill behind Skirfir's farm.

Or what remained of it. He felt his jaw drop as he took in what had once been a lush farmland beside a forest. The hill had been flattened, and for as far as he could gaze, a barren wasteland stretched. Any hint of green was gone, replaced by the blackened tint of charred soil. The smell of smoke and heat and ash filled his mouth and Mikhail coughed as he inhaled a bitter mouthful of the acrid air. The hut was gone, only a charred imprint on the ground remained of the stone hut.

At the epicenter of the blast, evident by the blackened crater it had left behind, was the smoldering remains of Skirfir. There was not much left, only a few blackened bones that crumbled under a breeze and a smoldering wand. A bit further away, a blue orb shone merrily in the desolate landscape, creating a harsh contrast to the nearby surroundings. Beneath it, a small patch of green remained along with the huddled form of Vera and Jaeger. Mikhail cursed and apparated a small ways off and ran the rest of the distance. Bad things happened when you startled trained witches and wizards.

Vera groaned as he came into sight and flopped to the ground wearily. Jaeger looked as stoic as ever, but there was a smolder behind his dark eyes and Mikhail knew he was equal spades furious and relieved. The blond wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. "See? This is what happens when I leave the hard work to the two of you." He scolded cheerfully. "What happened to keeping things clean?"

Their leader fluidly clambered to her feet in one graceful motion and kicked him in the shins. As Mikhail yelped in pain, and hopped around on his good leg, she stretched herself and summoned Skirfir's wand. The smoldering piece of wood was blackened in certain areas, and the handle had been cleanly scorched off, but it was still in functional condition. "I did not think he knew such a spell," she muttered and stretched a hand to the still kneeling Jaeger. "Had I known, I would have prepared a counter for it before hand."

Jaeger took her hand and she pulled him to his feet, and the three of them stared solemnly for a while at the blackened landscape in silence. "Not me." Mikhail muttered at last. Jaeger turned to him, an eyebrow arched in confusion. "What?"

The blond grinned. "I said it first, so I'm not going to be responsible for cleaning this mess up." He added, "Besides. I wasn't even part of the fight."

Vera rolled her eyes as the german grunted in understanding. "Then go make sure nobody heard the explosion or saw anything." The blond gave a half hearted salute and popped away.

"Not me." The german rumbled a few seconds later and Vera felt her eye twitch in annoyance. "Really?" She growled. Jaeger smiled slyly, and shrugged. The inky haired witch shook her head exasperatedly. "Fine, I'll take of this." She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled sadly at Jaeger. "Feel any better?"

"Not really." He replied after a moment. He looked down sadly at the wand clutched in her hand. "He was not always like this." She nodded in agreement. "A long time ago." She looked wistfully at the twinkling stars above them. "A long time ago." She repeated sadly.

**Hogwarts, fifth years DADA class**

"Today we will learn about silent casting." The aged professor adjusted his glasses and smiled placidly, turning to the crimson and veridian cloaked students. "Who can tell me what is silent casting and why it is vitally important in dueling?"

Tom suppressed the urge to snort at the ridiculously easy question and idly tapped his fingers against the side of the table. Beside him, Avery's hand had shot up before Professor Tueor had even finished his sentence. Three of the Gryffindors had also done the same, and several of the Slytherins glared at their counterparts with fierce disdain. The rivalry between the houses was the stuff of legends. Riddle thought it was foolish and pointless, but that didn't stop him from trying to win anyway.

"Hm," the professor looked around the room and eventually settled on Avery. "Mister Rosier?"

"Silent casting is the art of casting spells without speaking or mouthing the syllables to a given spell. It camouflages the spell used and makes it impossible for the enemy to tell which spell was used, sir." He said it confidently and quickly, and the white haired teacher nodded thoughtfully.

"A good answer, one point to Slytherin." The professor then turned to the side and raised his wand at a wooden mannequin behind him. The DADA class was arranged in a semi-circle with the students on one end, and an assorted row of wooden dummies on the other. He gazed intently at the dummy and gave a sharp and deep jab forward. Tom instantly recognized the shield piercing hex and smirked smugly when a muted silver colored bolt of magic shaped like an arrow shot out of the teacher's wand.

There were four spectrum of colors that denoted the strength of hexes, with bronze being the weakest, silver the next in line, gold after that and finally blue. Shield spells also used the same color scheme for integrity. Generally speaking, you would need a shield of a higher color to fully negate any backlash from the spell. That the professor of DADA could only use silver, and one of such low shininess, spoke of how hard it was to intensify one's spells non-verbally. The majority of the wizard population never rose above silver even when vocal-casting, with only top aurors and duelists being capable of gold spectrum spells in general. As for the last and final tier, it was generally accepted there was only a select few capable of enforcing spells to such degree that they became blue. Tom had never seen anyone cast a spell of that caliber, but that was not surprising. Hogwarts employed the best teachers, not the strongest duelists. Who was it that had said 'those who can, do; those who cannot, teach'? It was true at any rate.

Tom could cast bright silver colored hexes with ease. Gold was still eluding him, but he was sure he was on the verge of breakthrough.

"Can anyone tell me the disadvantage to using silent casting and who first invented it?" The professor turned to the Gryffindors and pointed at one of them.

"Mr. Abbott, would you care to answer?" The DADA teacher was usually very fair, giving both houses equal opportunity to answer questions.

"Silent casting makes spells weaker and… I think it was one of the founders who first introduced the art of silent casting, sir." He hesitated a little on the second part, clearly unsure of himself.

"Which one?" Professor Tueor pressed. Tom snorted, the fool would probably guess Godric Gryffindor out of house pride.

"Is it Gryffindor, sir?" The teacher sniffed, recognizing the guess for what it was, but luckily for the student, he had guessed right.

"Correct. A point to Gryffindor. Although I suggest against answering a question with a question, Mr. Abbott." The student in question flushed red, but his neighbor slapped him on the back and gave him a thumbs up. Tom felt annoyance flare inside. Such a pitiful performance was undeserving of recognition.

"Now then." The professor turned to the Slytherins. "A more difficult question for extra points. Why does silent casting weaken spells, and is this always the case?"

Nobody raised their hands, some even huddled with their friends, trying to exchange information in a bit to gain the extra points. Tom slowly raised his hands, making sure to keep an even face.

"Mr. Riddle!" The professor nodded encouragingly. "Enlighten us."

"The reason silent casting weakens a spell is because most people lack the mental discipline to replicate the tone emphasis between vocal syllables and thought syllables. As such, the spell loses a portion of its intensity." Tom paused for half a second before continuing. "This is not always the case, however. Hypothetically, a wizard or witch could intone in their minds the perfect syllables and cast a silent-spell with the same strength as a vocal spell, sir."

Professor Tueor nodded stroked his goatee. "Take five points for Slytherin for a well-constructed answer. It is exactly as Mr. Riddle explained, it is very difficult for wizards and witches to accurately vocalize spells in their mind, so the end result is a naturally weaker spell. However, the deceptive nature of silent-casting far outweighs the slightly weaker spells, which is why silent-casting is the bread and butter of duelists. Now, here are the steps to formulating a spell in your mind." He tapped the blackboard behind him and words began to appear. "Step 1…" He began the lecture.

Avery grinned at Tom as everyone flipped open their notebooks and started writing. "Teacher's pet." He mouthed to the brunet. Tom narrowed his eyes and pointedly looked at his wand then at his friend. Avery pretended to look petrified, but he was struggling not to laugh and end result resembled more a look of confusion rather than fear. Tom looked away, chuckling to himself. A little ways left, Evelynn Rosier caught sight of Tom and sent him a confused glare. Tom caught sight of her, but merely smiled politely and tilted his head in greeting. No doubt she had just learned of their alliance and that he had been the one to elect her as head. The blonde narrowed her eyes and turned away disdainfully.

"Now then, I want you all to partner up and practice non-verbally casting the levitation charm." The professor demonstrated by levitating one of the dummies wordlessly in the back. "There are feathers here." He gestured to a box at the front of the classroom. "Oh, and remember to take turns and help each other out."

"So, I take it no one knows what you are planning?" Avery muttered as he tried to levitate the innocent looking feather in front of him. Tom tapped his fingers and gave a noncommittal noise of agreement. "Maybe. I have a feeling Walburga knows what I am doing, but I am not sure. She might have agreed just for fun, you know how the Blacks are." Avery gave up and rolled his eyes when the feather rose slowly just as he lowered his wand. "Hmph. Why am I not surprised you are good at this too?" Tom merely grinned.

**At a bar in Knockturn Alley**

"So, did you look into it like I asked?" Hermione asked coolly while sipping lightly at her non-alcoholic drink. A little ways away, Fletcher feigned a coughing fit.

"I sure did. Tricky little suckers," he said under his breath. Then he began to laugh at his own pun and Hermione suppressed the urge to smack him. She settled for a growl. "But it ain't hard if you know where to look. The coven's somewhere north of Serene Forest." He faked a yawn and muttered softly. "Mind if I ask what you want from em?"

Hermione slipped a coin under her drink and stood. "I do. I pay you for information, not the other way around." She swept out the seat and brushed past her informant. The glint of gold was nearly imperceptible in the dim light as she slid the coin into his hands.

Sammy chuckled and fingered the golden galleon. "A goose that lays golden eggs." He rolled the fat coin under the folds of his cloak and smirked.

**With Hermione**

Serene Forest was very beautiful. Lush green shrubbery and tall thick oaks dotted the landscape, creating a much more welcoming atmosphere than the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. The smell of clean grass and rain-soaked pine was refreshing and Hermione took her time as she wandered around the small village. North, Sammy had said, but north of a forest was a very large amount of distance to cover. Still, Hermione was in no rush. Finding information on Ikarus from a vampire coven was a longshot at best, still, it was her best chance at the moment.

The first day brought nothing but trees and the odd magical creature, likewise for the second, but on the third day, Hermione struck gold. It started with a soft giggle that broke the brunette out of her contemplation on a particular tree, as she noticed a small child peeking her head around a magnificent pine. Hermione caught sight of wide and curious red eyes before the child in question gasped and ducked behind the tree. Unbidden, a small smile crept up her face and she waited patiently in place. After a few heartbeats, a small tuft of black hair slowly crept out from the side of the tree. Unblemished, pale features followed by ruby red lips parted slightly in concentration and curiosity slowly peaked around the tree.

"Come on out," Hermione spoke in a soft dulcet tones, not wanting to scare the small vampire. "I know you're there."

Slowly, a heart shaped face poked out from around the majestic pine tree. From an initial survey of her appearance, the child could not have been older than seven. Her cute features still held the innocence that all children possessed.

"Hello." Hermione said awkwardly, after a moment's hesitation. Unlike with Ikarus, the red eyes of the child in question were bright and innocent, lending evidence that the small girl in front of her was in fact, an actual child despite her vampirification. The witch resisted the urge to check with her legilimency skills, feeling it would be too intrusive and shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.

"Hi." The young vampire's voice was soft and high, and there was no fear in her gaze. "Why do you smell funny?" She promptly asked, her tone inquisitive.

Hermione flushed, and lifted the edge of her cloak to her nose. It smelled of clean cotton with a vague hint of pine. "Do I smell funny?" She asked perplexedly after another sniff test. Perhaps it was just the heightened vampire senses.

The vampiress nodded eagerly. "You smell different." The young child tilted her head and sniffed twice. "Like caramel and sugar…" she said, drooling slightly.

Hermione opened her mouth in a soft exclamation of surprise. Of course! It was the sweets she had brought along with her for her trek in the forest. "Er, yes. I have some chocolate with me." She giggled as the child looked at her hopefully.

"Do you," she laughed as she slowly took out a bar of chocolate. "Want some?" The small girl peered eagerly at Hermione's outstretched hand, but hesitated and took a few steps back.

"Mommy said not to take anything from strangers." The small girl pouted, even as her eyes followed the chocolate in Hermione's hands. The brunette witch nodded seriously. "Your mom's right, you shouldn't take anything from strangers."

The inky-haired vampire looked so forlorn that Hermione felt a pang of guilt at her sad expression. "How about this, why don't you take me to your mom and let's ask her if you can have some chocolate?" Hermione offered, retracting the bar of chocolate and extending her hand instead.

"Okay!" The child grabbed her hand and pulled her along with surprising strength. "I live over there with mommy and daddy."

"What's your name?" Hermione asked as they walked at an accelerated pace into the wood.

"My name is Selene!" The small child exclaimed exuberantly. "What's yours?"

"Hermione." Hermione replied, after a moment's hesitation. "Selene is a very pretty name for a very pretty girl."

Selena beamed at her. "Daddy says it means the moon!" She explained. "I like your name too!" She paused and turned to Hermione.

"How come you don't have red eyes?" Selena asked curiously. "They are brown!" She exclaimed in awe.

Somewhere along the way, Hermione's hood had fallen. She opened her mouth to explain, but a flash of silver on the edge of her peripheral vision forced her to duck. In a smooth motion, she whirled around while drawing her wand and simultaneously placing the small vampire behind her. The silver dagger thudded softly against the bark of the tree behind her, sinking deep into the bark until it was buried hilt deep. Whoever had thrown it clearly had superhuman strength, and as Hermione looked over her assailant's appearance, it quickly became clear who had just attacked her.

"Witch. Let go of that child." A fully grown female vampire hissed. Black hair, crimson eyes and bared fangs. Beautiful and unblemished skin, bearing a distinct resemblance to the small child behind her.

Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand and let go of the small vampire behind her. "Listen, this is just a misunderstanding." Selene took the opportunity to dart forward, a big smile on her face as she exclaimed. "Mommy!" Hermione sighed as several vampires melted out from the nearby shadows. She raised her wands defensively, feeling a familiar prickling sensation crawl down her spine. She was surrounded.

A man to her right took a step forward, but Hermione's eyes never left the woman in front of her. Selene peered from behind her mother curiously, uncertain what was happening.

"You're a long way from home, mortal." Hermione's passive legilimency flared to life and she gently probed his thoughts. _Anger. Fear. _Flashes of spell light, fallen comrades turning into ash. _Hatred._

"Marcus." The vampiress warned, one hand still restraining Selene from moving.

Hermione turned slowly to look at the vampire named Marcus, and caught sight of smoldering red eyes. He was perhaps in his mid-thirties judging by his rough features and there was a vicious looking scar that ran down the entire length of the left side of his face. Thick curly brown hair haphazardly braided met at the back to form a makeshift ponytail. He glared at her fiercely.

"Can I have her?" A sultry voice asked from behind. _Amusement. Pleasure._ Flashes of a man chained to a stone wall, bleeding from numerous flesh wounds carved from a cat o nine tails whip. _Prey._

"No. Eugene, find Lily... Now." The vampire in front of Hermione nodded to a man a little ways to her left. "Until Eugene returns, no one is to make a move." The brunet named Marcus curled his lips in displeasure, but otherwise refrained from doing anything.

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Selena's mother cut in. "That goes for you too, witch." _Worry. _An army of hit-wizards razing their community. _Fear. _She wanted to say something to diffuse the situation, but after a moment's thought, Hermione closed her mouth. Silence was best here, at least until 'Lily' got here. And if their leader was as antagonistic as Marcus… the only witch in the clearing tightened her grip on her wand.

Shortly thereafter, a rustling of a nearby bush heralded Eugene's arrival, and as everyone's attention shifted to him, another vampire stepped out from behind him. Lily, no doubt. Even at a cursory glance, it was clear she was different from the others. Her eyes were vibrantly red in the fading twilight, and her entire body shone softly with an inner glow. Her aura, to those who could sense such things, gently billowed from her in soft pulses. Hermione's passive legilimency failed to detect anything, parting like water on a rock against the woman's mental shields.

She was also wearing a low cut white dress that accentuated her curves. Hermione felt a sharp sting of jealousy in the face of such supernatural beauty. Her face was almost perfectly symmetrical, and her nose perfectly situated. Hair as white as paper glistened, falling past soft shoulders in an elegant cascade. Her features were flawless, almost as if she had stepped out a painting and into real life. Compared to her, Hermione's nose was too low and her forehead too large. The brunette felt wholly inadequate standing in front of the beautiful vampire, but quickly squashed the feeling. She clamped down on the thoughts and forcibly tossed them away. _Focus, _she thought to herself._ There's a ring of vampires not a few feet away seeking to tear my throat out. _

"Greetings, my name is Lily Wyndstone." The silvery haired vampire dipped her head courteously. Hermione felt a feather light touch brush ever so slightly against her mind. It was so light, a lesser person would have dismissed it, but Hermione recognized the probe for what it was and gently repelled the attack. Lily's eyes widened ever so slightly, but Hermione did not take offense. After all, she had done the same not a second ago albeit in a more discreet and untraceable manner.

"Hermione Granger." Hermione lowered her wand slowly. "I do not mean any of you harm. I was merely wandering about the forest when I came upon Selene." Marcus snorted at this, and interrupted.

"I suggest we get rid of her." Hermione felt more annoyance than fear at his threatening words. She turned to him and smiled softly.

"I had heard from my peers that vampires were nothing more than animals, brutish creatures with a limited intelligence, undeserving of equal rights as a wizard or witch." Everyone around her stiffened, but Hermione continued on, unconcerned. "Of course, I never believed in any of that nonsense, but I have to admit." She paused here and arched an eyebrow at him. "You certainly fit the description. Perhaps they were right."

Marcus looked incensed beyond belief after she finished, but before he could do anything he would regret, Lily raised a hand. He immediately backed down, but his eyes and expression remained furious.

"Please forgive Marcus' comments. He does not speak for all of us." There was a warning in her voice and Hermione knew the second half was meant for the fuming brunet vampire. Lily clasped her hands together, and smiled politely at her. "While I am pleased to hear you do not share your brethren's dislike for our kind, I must admit I am somewhat skeptical by your claim. It is exceedingly rare for any wizard or witch to stumble this far deep into the Forest _by accident_."

Hermione nodded, deciding there wasn't any need to lie. "Your skepticism is well founded. While I did stumble upon Selene by accident, my presence here was born of my own curiosity. I did hope to find your coven as I had heard rumors of vampires sighted north of Serene Forest, but I mean you and your coven no harm, that I can assure you. I am merely seeking information on a vampire named Ikarus Santoro." Had she not been actively looking for it, the brunette witch might have missed the expression of surprise that flashed across Lily's face. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but Hermione knew Lily recognized the name.

The platinum haired witch looked at her for a long while, her gaze sharp and penetrating. Hermione met it unflinchingly. At last, the white haired vampire shook her head. "This matter is too delicate for me to handle alone. I am not the leader of this coven." The other vampires stirred in surprise at this. Hermione blinked in surprise. Marcus looked particularly aghast.

"Lily, I urge you to reconsider. She knows too much now for us to let her go." There were several others who voiced agreement.

"No." Lily said curtly, cutting him off before he could continue. "My decision stands. I would like to extend a formal invitation to you, Hermione Granger, to meet with our coven elders. I also give you my word that you will not be harmed." Lily reassured, expertly reading Hermione's dubious expression.

Hermione could simply apparate away. Entering coven territory meant that if things went sour, she would have no choice but to fight her way out. The safer choice would be to leave, but she was so close to finding out more about Ikarus. Was it worth the risk? "Very well." Hermione acquiesced at last. "I would be delighted to accept."

**Later**

Hermione paced around the waiting room, running her eyes over the multitude of artifacts and objects. Most were mundane, but a few possessed magical runes and served as shielding talismans and protective jewelry. Lily had gone to summon the elders, leaving Fiona with her. Fiona was Selena's mother and despite their earlier mishap in communicating, the two had quickly settled their differences once the full story had come out. It helped that Selene was happily munching on some chocolate Hermione had given her, and was currently seated on her mother's lap pulling at Fiona's raven locks.

"So did you use to belong to another coven?" Hermione asked, nodding at the tattoo on the back of her neck. To her knowledge, vampire covens usually shared the same insignia and she had caught sight of Lily's earlier as they walked through the forest. It was of a different design than the one Fiona had, but the inky haired vampiress had defaulted to Lily despite being in a different coven. To her knowledge, such things were rare.

Fiona looked surprised, but nodded. "Yes, many of us belonged to different covens at first, but it was thanks to our current patriarch that our communities fused together." She gently stroked Selene's hair, and smiled softly. "Things are much better now after the unification. There's a lot less infighting between coven factions." Hermione nodded. It was no easy thing to fuse and hold together so many different covens. This was the fruit of many years of labor, and she had no wish to disrupt whatever peace the vampires had been able to create. She had been able to identify at least seven different covens while walking through the encampment. If possible, she did not want to resort to violence.

Before she could ask any questions about the mysterious patriarch, a knock sounded outside. Fiona gently lifted Selene, who looked half asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day's activities and placed her on her head, before walking over to the door and opening it. Hermione had always found it peculiar that only older vampires were nocturnal. Something to do with their magical connection being reawakened after reaching their first century, which had as by-product of making them nocturnal. She was cut off from her musings as Lily walked in.

"If you are ready, please follow me." She looked as pristine as ever, her immaculate appearance the perfect blend of elegance and confidence. In Hermione's mind, such perfection would not be out of place on members of royalty, and the poise and grace in Lily's movement matched what she would expect from a princess or a queen. She pouted slightly, and from Lily's amused smile, Hermione gathered she had been found out. She sulked the entire way, despite knowing it was childish. It didn't help any that she was stuck in a fourteen year old body.

The council room was essentially a large clearing in the forest, lined with great stone slabs, resembling a neater stonehenge with a soft fire crackling in the middle. Hermione was given a seat on one of the stones right beside Lily, who stood to address the shadowy figures seated atop the others.

"This is Hermione Granger, a witch. She was found just outside our borders, and after some discussion, I decided I needed to consult the council on what to do." Lily paused as someone shifted a little ways from her.

"Why is she here?" A low baritone voice echoed out. "What is her purpose here? Who does she represent?" Lily glanced at Hermione, who nodded and stepped forward.

"I am looking for information on Ikarus Santoro. That is the only reason I am here, and I represent my own interests." She said without preamble. Her response was curt and to the point. There was a moment of silence as the elders digested the information.

"What is your relationship with him?" A dry wheezing voice inserted.

"Am I being interrogated?" Hermione snapped, her patience wearing thin at the questions. "I was under the impression I would be a guest and not a prisoner when I accepted the invitation."

"This is ridiculous." A nasal voice called out, derision clear in his voice. "Summoning the entire council for a single witch? You are out of your mind, Wyndstone. Our council was not formed to deal with trivial matters such as this. I propose we kill her and be done with it."

Lily stepped forward quickly before Hermione could reply. "Violence is not the solution. I would like to remind you that our patriarch is seeking to advocate on our behalf to the MoM for equal rights, and I will not have you compromise his goals. Also, I have offered my word she would not be harmed." She warned.

There was a murmur that quickly fell silent as the familiar baritone voice spoke up. "I agree with Wyndstone. Perhaps a secrecy contract reinforced with a vow of the highest degree will be sufficient. The witch in question is young yet, there is no need for such drastic measures. Especially if she does not represent anyone or any group."

The nasal voice cut in. "She's a witch, her kind is deceitful by nature. She claims to only represent herself, and I sensed no duplicity when she made the claim, so there will be no fallout or repercussions if she goes missing. Her age is irrelevant to this discussion. If anything, her youth makes things simpler." A pause before the vampire continued, his voice clinically detached, as if he was talking about the weather and not cold-blooded murder. "Contracts can be broken at a cost, after all. Besides, she knows too much now. The last thing we want is the MoM to prematurely know we have unified and where. Such a thing would undermine our patriarch's goals."

There were more murmurs. Hermione couldn't tell if they were leaning toward agreement or not. Either way, things were clearly getting out of hand. She felt her patience snap, and her magic surged inside her, begging to be released upon the world. She descended past Lily, who looked at her worriedly and somewhat apologetically and strode into the firelight with confident strides.

"I think there has been a major misunderstanding here," Hermione said softly, and paused. She turned and smiled gently in the direction where the nasal voice had come from. "Believe me, between the two of us here, you have more to fear from me than I from your council, unified or not. If you choose to make me your enemy, I assure you will regret that decision, for however long you would live after making such a choice." At this point, Hermione let her magic uncoil around her and raised her wand in a smooth motion and flicked it through a familiar pattern. Whether it was the speed of her wandwork or her unrepressed aura that surprised them, or both, the vampires failed to react. Within seconds, the flames behind her had surged upwards and outwards, trapping them in a dome of blazing fire. A thin strand broke off and floated in front of her, where it flickered and roared to life silently as it transformed into a single orb of condensed light and heat.

She reached out with her hand and gently clasped the blazing orb of liquid plasma. It felt warm and fuzzy in her hands, like holding a puff of warm cotton candy. Hermione knew, however, that if she were to break the casing, the entire clearing would be melted into molten slag. This was the same spell that had birthed the orb of plasma she had used to intimidate the owner of the wand shop, but only this time the ball in question was infinitely more deadly. She lifted her left hand and grasped the blazing ball of fire, and in her palms it glowed so bright that even though it was night, the stone clearing was lit up as if it was the middle of the day. The heat it gave off was tremendous, but Hermione was unfazed. "So take your time and think carefully about your next words. Am I truly an enemy you can afford to make?" She finished airily, her hair billowing slightly under a gentle night breeze.

"You would kill yourself along with us?" The baritone voice belonged to a vampire with onyx skin as dark as coal with sharp crimson eyes inlaid on a stern face, which looked like it belonged on a stone sculpture of an ascetic monk. His bald head gleamed under the harsh glare of Hermione's spell. Despite the volatile and dangerous situation, his voice remained steady and his eyes held no fear as Hermione turned to face him.

"I will not die from this." Hermione answered thinly, her legilimency picking up nervousness and apprehension from several of the council members. "I doubt the same could be said for all of you." Nobody spoke for a while. Hermione gently rolled the orb in her hand with a casual disregard for how dangerous it was and let the silence sink into the cold and silent night and waited patiently as it stretched on with the same urgency as a ticking time bomb, letting the tension build until it was almost tangible in the night air around them. There was a bitter-sweet tang in her mouth, and not for the first time in her life, Hermione felt the vigorous rush of pleasure and adrenaline as her magic darted playfully around her.

The brunette witch breathed in deeply, and held her breath for a count of ten before slowly exhaling and letting the tension bleed from her body. Her senses were heightened and her skin felt a soft breeze with almost supernatural sensitivity as it teasingly flowed through her thin cloak and across her naked skin underneath her clothes. Slowly, the light in her hands faded and the surrounding darkness, which had been banished by her fierce spell, crawled back mercilessly into the center of the stone circle. Behind her, the fire dimmed to it's former silhouette, a far cry from the towering figure her magic had amplified it into. Although she could no longer see into the darkness, Hermione knew they were watching her, examining for any sign of hesitation or nervousness. Despite that, she was calm and composed, knowing they could not afford to make any aggressive moves. But she was also alert and ready for anything. The war had taught her that the truly desperate was capable of anything under the right circumstances. There was no predicting the movements of those backed into a corner, she knew it only too well. A distant flutter of wings, a low hoot of an owl and the faint sound of cloth sliding on stone were all caught by her ear.

"I think I have made my point." She smiled demurely and withdrew her wand beneath the folds of her robe and continued. "Let me reiterate my stance. I am not your enemy, and you are not mine. I came here tonight because I wanted information on Ikarus Santoro, for personal reasons. I have no ulterior motive or hidden agenda." She smiled softly. "Now then, shall we try again?" Her aura dissipated fully, and despite her vulnerability, or perhaps because of it, her senses felt as if they had been electrified and she was hyper aware of every little movement and noise, even as her legilimency sought out any signs of anger or rage.

As she walked calmly back to her original position on the stone slab beside Lily, the latter stared at her the entire way, calculatingly .

**And that's that. I've never been a fan of Tom Riddle in the other stories as they were almost always a rendition of a mini-Voldemort. I know Rowling portrayed him in a negative light, even when he was extremely young (the memory of his admittance into Hogwarts), but I think that's just the bias Albus had against him. You can't determine a child's worth simply because he grew up in a rough neighborhood, the orphanage in this case. I'm also choosing to ignore his more violent tendencies. He certainly doesn't shy away from physical or magical intimidation, but he's smart. He won't compromise the position of prefect by bullying everything that moves or talks.**

**Also, a leader can't be a leader if he isn't charismatic. Voldemort is not charismatic, he leads through fear and Tom Riddle cannot afford to do that. He's a halfblood in a dormitory filled with purebloods whose only goal in life is to look down on muggle borns and muggles. I don't think Slytherin house is so easy to subjugate, heir of Slytherin or not, and although Tom has a lot of influence as one of the heads, he's not the only head of the snake. Which is why I think his original circle of 'Knights' were friends. As in, actual friends who trusted him and respected him. Not servants like the Death Eaters in the later story.**

**For me, Voldemort is a product of his choices during the later years of Hogwarts when he first killed, by accident no less, a muggleborn and when he became obsessed with power and artifacts of power. Then he toured the world learning all sorts of magics and partaking in all sorts of unsavory rituals that gave birth to the monster that he would become. You'll notice he detests weakness, and is a firm believer that might makes right. **

**Concerning the whole rank of magic, it's just something I made up on the spot so I could write the scenes better and clarify some of the confusion I had with what would happen if two spells collided. I'm never going to talk about it again and if anything happens that contradicts it I will ignore it. It's not relevant, much. **

**The coven... I know I'm introducing a lot of new characters and everything, but it was legit the only way I could see of making Ikarus non-2d. Also, Lily's not going to be that important and the elders are just leaders of their own clans. I am just setting up things so that when **_**it**_** happens, the pieces will be lined up in place. What is **_**it**_**, you ask? Well, I can't tell you. **

**Here's a hint though. What do you think Grindelwald is doing? Hermione might only want to defeat him and take the wand for herself, but it's not that simple. **

**Winter is coming. *Wink wink, nudge nudge.***


End file.
